Battle Royale: Three Days to Kill
by JamesRenard
Summary: Three days. It's quite a while really if you're stuck on an island with virtually no way of escaping, and the students in this latest Program will find they have more than just time to kill...
1. The Letter

_Authors Note: So, this is my first attempt at writing a Battle Royale fanfiction, I hope you readers out there enjoy it. Some words of warning: This story contains strong language, violence, plenty of blood and other twisted things (it's Battle Royale, what else did you expect?), so if you're uncomfortable with these kinds of things, then please refrain from reading this._

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**Date sent: 05/06/2014 - 6th May 2014**

To Gerald Jones, Principle of Pinefalls High School

We are writing this letter to inform you that your school has been selected to send a class for the June 2014 Educational Reform Act Program (aka. the 19th Battle Royale).

The class that has been randomly chosen by our computer system is:  
**Class 3-A, Pinefalls High School, Pinefalls, Illinois**

The following forty-five students from this class will be participating in this month's Program from the second Friday of the month (13th to 15th June). Names of the participants are listed below, alphabetically by surname:

Tristan Armstrong

Samantha Barker

Rachel Barry

William Blackwell

Kieron Bolt

Isabel Callahan

Perry Carter

Lee Dawford

Mallory Derwent

Olivier Dumont

Caroline Easton

Natalie Ellis

Bethany Feldman

Darrell Fischer

Tamsin Forrest

Paula Garrison

Gregory Higgins

Jodie Holland

Fumiko Igarashi

Whitney Johannsen

Stuart Kitson

David Lessing

Graham MacLeod

Duncan Marshall

Toni Mitchell

Jonathan Newman

Kirsty Nichols

Victoria Norton

Richard Oakhurst

Corey O'Donoghue

Vance Petrovic

Deborah Rainer

Zachary Reilly

Juan Rivera

Franklin Sharpe

Allison Shepherd

Leah Smith

Ursula Steine

Barry Sykes

Yvonne Thompson

Arthur Turner

Mark Turner

Imani Velasquez

Nicholas Walsh

Francesca Young

The above students will be taken to the location of the Program on Thursday 12th June directly from your school under the guise of a study trip, so as to avoid suspicion from the participants and any resistance by friends and/or relatives. Attendance at school on this day is _mandatory_ for all students involved. Any resistance or leaking of information by you, other personnel or other students and friends will _not_ be tolerated and will be punishable by either incarceration, or in extreme cases, death. Please send the addresses of all participating students to us, so as to inform their next of kin before the Program gets under way.

We thank you kindly for your co-operation.

Yours sincerely,

Taro and Hanako Yamada, joint-heads of the Educational Reform Act Program


	2. Before the Game, Part 1

**Thursday 12th June 2014, 08:40 CDT  
Game start: T minus 14 hours, 20 minutes (00:00 EDT)**

Vance Petrovic sat underneath the pine tree in the forecourt of the school, leaning against its trunk and hiding in its shade from the already strong heat of the sun, despite it being only twenty to nine in the morning. From his shady spot, he observed the other students at his school, Pinefalls High, arriving and heading into the building, excluding some that stood spread around a large silver Swift Journey coach parked on the asphalt by the school gates; all of them students in the same class as him.

"Don't feel like hanging around with the rest of 'em?" a voice said from behind the sixteen year old. Vance turned around and saw Corey O'Donoghue standing behind the pine, an unlit cigarette in his mouth and the lighter in his hand ready to ignite it.

"No, not really," Vance spoke, putting his hands behind his black-haired head and making himself comfortable until they needed to go. Behind him, Corey cupped his hand around the end of the cigarette and lit it up, inhaling the toxic smoke. "Do the cheerleaders really have to come along?" Vance rhetorically asked, seeing the four girls huddled close together and talking amongst each other.

"Well, they're in our class, don't think we got much choice. But hey, it could be worse, we could have had all of the bitches join us today," Corey spoke in a muffled voice, the cancer stick between his lips slightly hampering his speech.

"That's true, but we still have the one in charge coming along," Vance countered, glaring at the back of Mallory Derwent, who was pointing to a group of kids heading into school and laughing to the rest of her group.

"I really hate that bitch, but oh man, Imani's even worse than her," Corey replied, exhaling the smoke out his nostrils and taking another drag from his cigarette. "You seen the way she always tries to pick on Samantha? That's the reason I hate her so much."

"Don' forget Will, he's the one who started that 'vendetta' against her. And you know how he's got a thing for Mallory, he probably influenced her." he said, coughing a little from the acrid smoke that drifted down to his level. "Speaking of that soccer ball-kicking idiot, I don't see him anywhere. You think he'll actually turn up?"

"You know what his track record's like when it comes to attendance, he's as bad as me!" Corey answered. "I wouldn't blame him though. I would've skipped it as well, if I wasn't going to get my ass kicked by the teachers." Vance nodded in agreement to this statement. There were plenty of things he could have done today instead of being forced to attend a potentially boring study trip to a museum, all the way, for some unknown reason, in the neighboring state of Indiana.

'_Probably could have gone to the skate park for a couple of hours, maybe done a few tricks,_' Vance thought. He watched the rest of the students in his class chatting and whatnot across the grounds, but like he said to Corey, he felt more comfortable being by himself or in the company of a few people, such as the chain smoking 17-year old behind him and/or track runner Samantha Barker, who wasn't at the school yet. Socializing just wasn't for him, especially when the majority of his class, in his honest opinion, were a bunch of idiots.

Top of his idiot list were the soccer team, closely followed by the cheerleaders, then David's gang (if you could even call it one) and the games club. Much to his annoyance, two of the three members of the club joining him on the trip were currently hanging around under another tree just eight meters away from him and Corey.

"Boring," he could hear Lee Dawford saying. "Boring, boring, boring, that's what this trip is going to be. I mean, why a museum of all places? I don't even take history anymore."

"C'mon, don't be like that. It might be better than you think," his friend Zachary Reilly replied. "I'm sure there's a reason we're going to this place." Vance shook his head; trust Zach to see the positive side of this school trip. But then, he seemed to be able to see the positive side in anything and anyone, being the eternal optimist that he was. Which was probably part of the reason Vance found him so annoying.

"That optimism is going to get him killed one day," Corey joked, to which Vance just shook his head again, chuckling under his breath. The third and final member, Darrell Fischer, had arrived at the school and walked over to Lee and Zach, joining in on the conversation between the other two games club members and taking Zach's side on the small argument, much to Lee's chagrin.

"Hmph, how much more waiting have we got?" Corey asked, growing impatient and taking the last few drags of his cigarette.

"I dunno, we're supposed to be leaving at nine," Vance replied, watching some of the students flocking by the coach doors, as if they were anticipating the departure as much as his friend.

"That doesn't answer my question, Vance," Corey said flatly, coughing loudly into his fist right after speaking.

"In quarter of an hour, okay? Geez, get a watch." Vance rolled his eyes while Corey dropped the smoldering cigarette butt on the floor and stamped it out with a grey sneaker.

* * *

"Fumiko, stop worrying, you're shaking like a leaf," Whitney Johannsen said, noticing the Asian girl's nervousness. She was very twitchy, as if she was expecting something sinister to happen to her within the next few seconds.

"Sorry, Whit, it's just… what if it's-" Fumiko Igarashi began until she was cut off.

"You said that back in November, nearly gave half the class heart attacks and almost got us thrown off the coach. And what happened? We ended up going to our intended destination in the end," the third girl in the group, Bethany Feldman, said, having interrupted Fumiko's sentence. "You're lucky I managed to persuade Juan to remove that incident from the school paper's article about the trip."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Fumiko apologized. "I'm just on edge, you know? I heard all kinds of stories about the Program from my parents. They moved from the RGEA in the first place to escape the Program..."

"Only for our government to implement it here as well," Whitney said. "It's just-- crap, keep it down, Debs is nearby," Whitney alerted the two others, seeing the netball player in question, Deborah Rainer, walking past with team mates Imelda Garrick, Shanay Miles, Jodie Holland (the only one of the small group in Deborah's class) and Amelia Timson.

"Huh, why's that?" Fumiko asked, watching the 5'11" blonde walk along, laughing with her friends as they talked about this and that.

"You didn't hear?" Bethany said, lowering her voice so only the two girls around her could hear. "Apparently, Deborah had been seeing a guy over the Internet. Someone named Bruce Derby, she'd told me one time he came from North Carolina."

"Right, and what happened?" she asked, noticing the solemn look on her friend's face. "Wait, he wasn't..."

"He was," Bethany confirmed. "His class was chosen for the Battle Royale back in January. He didn't make it..."

"Oh no... that's terrible," Fumiko said, looking back at the netball player, who was still chatting merrily to her team mates, unaware they'd just been discussing her dead boyfriend. Fumiko was suddenly startled by a flash from the side of her vision. She and the other two girls looked round to the source of said flash, seeing Juan Rivera grinning with a digital camera in his hands, with David Lessing, Duncan Marshall and Kieron Bolt standing behind him.

"You girls want your photos taken for the school article about this trip?" he asked, looking at the three females, the Hispanic male smirking more when his eyes focused on the Asian student, who tried side-stepping behind Whitney, hoping her friend's bushy chestnut hair and her own diminutive size (being 5'3" tall) would make him not notice her. It didn't work. "I could always get a nice shot of Fumiko screaming and reaching for the emergency esca--hey!" Bethany had just snatched the camera clean out of his hands. "Beth, give that back!"

"I think I can take our own photographs, thank you very much. Besides, Raphael said we had to share photo responsibility, and you've hogged the camera for long enough," she said, smiling at Juan, knowing she had him beat.

"Hmph, alright, but I get a photo of the earbleeders first," he said, using the informal nickname for the cheerleading squad. The three boys behind him snickered, but one certain girl in earshot didn't find it so funny.

"Hey! Don't think I didn't hear that, Juan Rivera!" came the voice of the head 'earbleeder', Mallory, turning from gossiping with her group and angrily marching towards him. He and the rest of his gang backed off, but she still pursued the photographer, chasing him around the courtyard as he started laughing.

"Oh boy, there she goes again," Kirsty Nichols sighed, watching Mallory start to catch up to Juan, while the rest of the students watched on bewildered, being approached by two of the three other cheerleaders who'd been talking to Mallory just moments before. They weren't the only ones approaching the three girls.

"Well it's nice to see those two are acting 'mature'," Perry Carter said sarcastically, arriving on the scene to see Mallory eventually grab Juan round the collar and drag him back to the other girls. Fumiko, Bethany and Whitney were just about to greet Perry, when Imani Velasquez butted in before they got a chance to open their mouths.

"What's it got to do with you, you little anime freak?" she shot at him, pointing to his rucksack, which had an anime character stitched on the back. Perry just shrugged, unfazed at her outburst.

"Hey! Don't talk to him like that!" Kirsty scolded, turning to the other cheerleader. Compared to the rest of the squad, Kirsty was the best-behaved and often had to stop the others from picking on the other students, and then apologizing if it happened anyway.

"For crying out loud, Kirsty, stop being such a goody two-shoes for once in your life!" Imani snapped, turning on her. "God, why did you even become a cheerleader in the first place?"

"Because, funnily enough, she's good at being a cheerleader, Imani," Mallory retorted from behind the two cheerleaders. "Stop being a bitch for once in _your_ life."

"Oh, like you can talk..." Juan complained, trying to release himself from her tight grip on his collar. Mallory turned her head from Imani and glared at him, letting him go.

"Owned," Perry chuckled, as Imani and Mallory started getting into an argument.

"How can they even function as a group?" Whitney whispered to Bethany, looking at the heated dispute between the two members, Juan looking gutted that he didn't have the camera to capture it on film. The fourth member of the cheerleading squad in the class, Leah Smith, had been completely oblivious to the altercation the whole time, waving instead to Teresa Doring, one of the other cheerleaders who wasn't going to be joining them on their excursion as she headed to her classes.

"I have no idea how," Bethany replied with a shrug of the shoulders. "Anyway, come on you three, stand closer together so I can get a good photo," she said, motioning to Whitney, Fumiko and Perry.

* * *

Some more students arrived at the school forecourt with six minutes to go before the scheduled departure time. For Charlie Irving, the teacher of class 3-A at the school, he could only hope that all forty-five students from his class had turned up.

'_Forty-four students actually, Victoria Norton's moving away today,_' he mentally corrected himself, remembering the girl was emigrating to the United Kingdom. She was probably at O'Hara airport right now, maybe already on the airplane. He sighed; he wanted to go to England one day, visit London and see the sights there, but with the measly teacher salary which seemed to be shrinking each month, it seemed more and more like a pipe dream.

He attempted to do a mental headcount of the numerous present students, but was hampered by the fact that they just would not keep still, and were running about the whole time and making his job difficult. Mallory was still arguing with Imani, Bethany was trying to take a photo of Vance and Corey (and being flipped the bird as a result), and the class tomboy Ursula Steine was even climbing up one of the trees.

'_A class trip with forty-four teenagers, what the hell was Gerald thinking?_' he thought, observing Graham MacLeod conversing in sign language with Tristan Armstrong and his younger brother Nate by the entranceway, and wondered why no one else had offered or been instructed to chaperone the students along with him on the trip to Indiana.

The average number of students in the classes at Pinefalls High was admittedly about forty-three, having jumped up about a year ago when a high school in a nearby town was burned to the ground by a group of arsonists, causing many of the students from there to be transferred to his school, as it was one of the closest and therefore much more convenient for the families. It wasn't an isolated event, the same thing was happening all around the country. Despite the slight improvements in behavior, schools were still closing down, classes were getting crowded, and the government didn't seem to care about the state of the education system. His pay was a reflection of that.

'_Everyone just thinks the Battle Royale is the solution to everything…_' he thought skeptically.

Looking to his watch, he was stunned to find he'd wasted a good three minutes in his thoughts. Gathering his thoughts back together, he strode out towards the bus. "Okay, people, settle down, we're going to begin boarding now," he spoke loudly, getting the attention of the students in his class who started making their way to the vehicle. "I'm taking the register when you board, so don't all pile on at once and make my job even more difficult than it is already, okay?"

"No, sir," some of the students said as they boarded the coach, one by one, as the 27-year old teacher ticked their names off. He looked past the crowd and sighed when he saw Caroline Easton sleeping under another tree.

"Hey, Duncan, David!" he called out to the two boys waiting at the back of the line. "Could you go over and wake Caroline up? She's asleep against that tree over there," he said, pointing to the sleeping figure. Both boys grumbled, asking Kieron and Juan to save them seats, then ran over as quick as they could. When they got to her, David smiled and poked her hard in the stomach.

"Ow!" Caroline yelled, waking up instantly and seeing the two boys standing over her. "W-what do you want?" she hesitantly asked.

"We're boarding the coach now. Get up, lazy," Duncan informed, kicking his foot against the sole of her shoe.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," she said, getting up and walking behind the two boys towards the coach, muttering 'bullies' under her breath. The rest of the students had now gotten on board and were (almost literally) fighting over the seats and about who was sitting where. Mr. Irving was facing a different problem. Flipping through the register and taking a recount, he discovered, ignoring those three just returning to the vehicle, that some students hadn't turned up.

"Hey, teacher," someone to the side of Mr. Irving gruffly said. He looked round for the source of the voice, not realizing it was coming from the aged and tanned man with a graying brown beard sitting in the driver's seat. "Hello? I'm talking to you," he added on, finally grabbing the attention of the teacher as David, Duncan and Caroline climbed on board and went to find their seats. "We have to leave."

"We can't leave just yet, we're still missing six students," Mr. Irving replied, taken aback by the driver's apparent lack of manners. "Just wait five more minutes, I think a school bus got dela-"

"No, we have to go right this minute, I'm on an extremely tight schedule," the coach driver argued from behind the glass screen separating him from the other passengers, cutting the teacher off rudely. Mr. Irving made a mental note to complain to the coach company about this driver's attitude once this trip was over. "Who's missing?" the driver asked.

"I told you, six stude-"

"I meant their names!" the driver replied loudly. Mr. Irving was already getting fed up with this man and the journey hadn't even started yet. He could only hope he wouldn't keep it up throughout the trip.

"Well, if you want to know so badly, Rachel, Will, Tamsin, Greg, Toni and Barry haven't arrived yet," he said, flipping through the sheets on the clipboard.

"Thank you," the driver replied, almost sarcastically. "We'll send a message to pick them up," he said, much to the teacher's surprise.

"Is that really necessary?" Mr. Irving asked, startled at that prospect. The driver didn't reply to his question, and instead pressed a button on the dashboard, the coach doors slamming shut with a hiss, with all the students cheering now that the journey was about to begin. "Go on, take your seat, it's going to be a long trip."

**Game start: T minus 14 hours (00:00 EDT)  
Students remaining: 45**

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_A/N: So, the first real chapter is up. Just some introductions, some more of which will occur in the next chapter, including the fate of five of the students who missed the coach. Stay tuned for that. Be sure to review and comment as well!_


	3. Before the Game, Part 2

**Thursday 12th June 2014, 09:00 CDT  
Game start: T minus 14 hours (00:00 EDT)**

Just as the coach had left the school grounds to head for Indiana, a yellow school bus was just arriving at the entrance, having run behind schedule due to road works on the way to school and so was several minutes late upon arrival. The doors of the bus opened and five junior year students jumped out, heading to the gates in a hurry.

"Dammit, why'd the school bus have to be late today of all days?" Gregory Higgins growled as Rachel Barry followed closely behind him, cursing under her breath.

"I hope we're not too late," she muttered.

"I hope that wasn't the coach we were meant to be on that just left," Tamsin Forrest said, followed by her step-sister, Toni Mitchell, pointing to the silver Swift Journey vehicle as it made its way down the round away from the school and towards the interstate. As they got to the gates and looked in the grounds, they saw that there were no other coaches in there. It was completely empty, apart from some students heading to their lessons, none of whom were in their class. It began to dawn on those five that they had indeed missed the coach.

"It was our one," Toni said, groaning to herself. Greg grumbled and looked up to the sky in annoyance, closing his eyes and putting his hands behind his head.

"Well, it's not all bad news, we can enjoy a day off school now," the fifth member of their group, Barry Sykes said, smiling. Toni rolled her eyes, knowing all too well that Barry hadn't been particularly interested in this trip to the museum, constantly reminding them (read: really annoying them) on the bus journey to the school.

"Yeah, but just think of all the trouble we could get in," Tamsin chimed in. "This trip was compulsory, we _had_ to attend it."

"So what? It's not our fault the school bus was held up. Besides, _they_ were the ones who left without us," Barry argued. "Sheesh, Tam, you worry too much."

"Knock it off, Barry," Toni shot back.

"Hey, keep it down if you're going to argue, I'm going to try phoning my parents," Rachel said, breaking up the small quarrel going on next to her. She pulled her cell phone out of her black cardigan pocket and dialled in her home number. "Geez, I can't believe they went and left us behind."

"Do you want me to reserve the bus for the journey back home if we need it?" Barry suggested, turning back to the emptying yellow vehicle.

"Wait a moment, it's ringing," Rachel said, covering her free ear with her hand to block out the background noise. She let the phone ring for almost half a minute, but nobody on the other side picked up. "Ugh, they're not answering. Maybe I should try phoning my sister," she said, unaware an army jeep was rapidly making its way up the road from behind the yellow school bus.

"Well, you do that, I'm getting back on board," Barry said, turning around and heading back to the school bus, waiting for the last few students to alight so he could board himself. Greg looked back up the road in the direction the coach had gone down, the vehicle now just a silver colored blob in the distance, and turned to the others.

"Do you think we ought to head back ourselv-"

The sound of squealing brakes prevented Greg from finishing his question. At once, a soldier jumped out of the jeep that had parked haphazardly in the middle of the street, brandishing an AK-47 and pointing it right at the group of stunned classmates. Two other soldiers hopped out right after him, both holding pistols with silencers attached to the barrels. They obviously meant business.

"What the hell...?" Rachel could only say, dropping the phone which shattered into dozens of pieces of black plastic and metal on the sidewalk. Tamsin and Toni were already backing away from the soldier.

"You four, you're not going anywhere!" the soldier shouted at them, the two non-blood relatives stopping their retreat from him immediately and staying still like statues. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a loud voice, not belonging to a student, cut him off.

"What the fuck are you playing at?!"

The soldier, as well as the four students standing in front of him, turned to the source of the voice that had interrupted him. The school bus driver was leaning out of his window, obviously infuriated at the fact that this soldier had parked in the middle of the road and was threatening the kids with rifles. "Get the fuck out of here and leave those kids alone!" The four youths standing there knew something bad was going to happen to the guy following his outburst, but even when it did, it would still shock them badly.

Without a word, the soldier pointed his rifle at the bus driver, who barely had a chance to open his mouth again, and fired a round into his infuriated red face, splitting his face open like a coconut and splattering its contents everywhere.

"Holy shit!" Greg yelled, jumping back, while the three girls screamed. Though they couldn't see it from the sidewalk, the left side of the yellow bus had just got a new lick of red paint, now covered in the driver's blood and brain matter, while his head was just an unrecognizable mess of blood, bone and bullet holes. Toni and Tamsin were holding onto each other, trying hard not to cry, while Rachel was trying hard not to throw up. The other students walking along and unfortunate to witness the slaying were all screaming and rushing in all directions like headless chickens, some into the school grounds, some away down the street.

Barry, meanwhile, had fallen backwards out of the bus, blood spattered across his grey hoodie from where he'd been standing right next to the driver when he got his head blown away. And from the stinging warmth making its way down his thighs, he realized he'd lost control of his bladder as well.

'_What the fuck is going on? Fuck, I need to get out of here,_' he thought.

_Click._

Another soldier had been lurking behind the bus, and was now pointing his own rifle at the unfortunate teen that lay there.

"Get up, stand with the others, NOW!" he yelled. Not one to argue with such a threat, he jumped up and walked as best he could to join the four others, scared and also to a lesser degree, embarrassed.

"Get in the jeep, that's an order!" the first soldier from before hollered to the five of them, pointing to the vehicle he'd jumped out from.

"No way!" Greg retaliated, as two soldiers marched up to grab him from behind. Being a staunch anti-governmentalist, he wasn't willing to be taken so easily by these goons, so he elbowed one of them in the stomach before they could grab his arms properly.

"Greg! Are you nuts?!" Rachel shouted, running over to try and stop the fight before anyone, most likely Greg, was killed. "Stop it! Stop it!" she yelled, trying to pull on Greg's arm to pull him away. Toni, Tamsin and Barry were keeping their distance. They witnessed what happened to their bus driver and were terrified the same fate would befall the two others.

One shot was fired from each of the two silenced pistols. Greg and Rachel both yelled in pain and struggled harder, but their movements soon became sluggish and they collapsed to the floor in a heap just ten seconds after being shot at. Rachel managed to glace up sadly at Tamsin for a second, before her eyes rolled back into her head and her blue eye shadowed eyelids closed.

"Oh my God, they just killed them…!" Tamsin whimpered, then screamed when the soldier that had shot Greg grabbed her by the arm and forcibly marched her to the back of the jeep, followed quickly by her stepsister and then Barry. The two bodies of their classmates were also thrown in with them, where Toni noticed a couple of small, colorful darts sticking out their necks instead of bullet holes, and their chests were still rising and falling slowly.

"They're not dead, they were tranquillized," she said, feeling no less relieved however about the present situation. Suddenly, a hissing sound started up and the back of the jeep began to fill up with a dense grey mist like a theater stage's smoke machine gone mad.

"What's going…on…?" Barry tried to ask, but just as he finished his sentence, he collapsed on the floor, passed out. Within seconds, Toni and Tamsin had joined him. When the soldiers, all wearing gas masks, had checked to make sure all five students had been knocked out, the jeep sped off after the coach, leaving behind dozens of horrified students and a dead bus driver.

* * *

**Thursday 12th June 2014, 11:12 CDT  
Game start: T minus 11 hours, 48 minutes (00:00 EDT)**

For the twenty boys and eighteen girls on the coach, they were all blissfully unaware of the other five teens' fate. Just over two hours into the journey and the ride was going a lot better than they'd originally thought. It wasn't cramped (probably because six people failed to show up), and it wasn't hot and sticky either, thanks to the wonders of air conditioning. The students were all busy doing their own things while the time elapsed. The cheerleaders were occupying the back row, ripping sheets of paper from their notepads, rolling them up and trying to throw them at the track runner, Samantha Barker, who had turned up and sat by herself, ignoring the antics by the girls. It was pretty easy for her to ignore them, as their aim was pretty bad most of the time, with the paper balls usually missing her and hitting either Arthur or Mark Turner, who sat one row behind her. Unlike Samantha, Mark was unwilling to just let it go.

"Knock it off you bitches!" the elder of the brothers virtually roared at them after a paper ball had struck him for the third time in ten minutes. His younger brother pulled at his shoulder, trying to calm him down. Mallory, Imani and Leah all "ooooh"'d at his reaction, Mark having half a mind to hurl the paper projectiles back at the cheerleaders, but Arthur managed to coerce him out of it, although he was still fuming.

"Why did I have to be in the same class as them?" Mark complained to his brother, crushing one of the paper balls in his hands and dropping it on the floor, out of the way.

"Because you were held back a grade," his brother simply replied. Mark glared at him and turned away, looking cross, as a paper ball sailed over his head and narrowly missed hitting Samantha, striking the back of the seat where Vance sat.

Technically speaking, Mark hadn't been held back a year, he'd just started school later on in his life. His birthday was in late August, meaning he should have already moved up to the twelfth grade. However, back when he was a toddler, Mark had been deemed to be slightly academically behind the other kids in his age group, and because his birthday was so close to the cut-off date, it was decided that it would be better for him to wait a year before he started school.

Arthur, on the other hand, was the complete opposite to his brother. Whereas Mark was the oldest in the class by one and a half weeks, Arthur was the youngest by four months, and should have still been in the sophomore year, but due to his constantly high grades and excellent test results in the year, he'd been moved up to the junior year to see if it could become a permanent part of his curriculum. So far, he had been coping well with the increase in work difficulty, but he was planning on seeing Principle Jones within the next few days so he could move back to the tenth grade. And the main reason for that decision was sitting next to him.

"Hey… look, I'm sorry, bro," Arthur apologized, noticing the anger written all over his older brother's face. "If it's any consolation, I'm stuck with them as well," he said, chuckling a little.

"It's okay," Mark replied, calming down a little. His head jerked though when he felt something strike the back of it and get stuck between his back and the grey felt seat he was leaning back on. He turned in his seat and saw yet another paper ball and heard the giggling from the back seats. "That does it!" he shouted, picking the ball up, standing up and hurling it right into the unsuspecting face of Mallory, who yelled out in surprise as it hit her right on the nose. Mark sat back down, grinning widely at getting one up on the head cheerleader. "That felt good."

* * *

"On est déjà arrivé?"

Olivier Dumont chuckled rather loudly in response to the question he was asked and just shook his head. Allison Shepherd, having just asked him in French if they were there yet, couldn't help herself and she burst out laughing as well. Though Olivier was bilingual in both French and English, having transferred from Quebec the previous year, Allison wanted to try and brush up her own foreign language skills and so had requested they converse in 'la langue française'.

"Nous avons environs deux ou trois heures, je pense," he replied.

"C'est trop lon-" her speech was abruptly cut off when her cell phone started ringing in her pocket.

"Ughhh... attends un peu, c'est mon portable," she said, having forgotten to switch it off before boarding the coach. Olivier nodded and turned away to let Allison have her conversation in relative peace, not easy when Lee down the front had just starting singing '100 Green Bottles' to pass the time and (how he did it, no one knew) had gotten the rest of the coach joining in with him. "Bonjou-err, sorry, hello?" she said loudly over the background noise, nearly forgetting to revert back to speaking English, to which Olivier laughed at under his breath.

"A-Allison? Where are you?" came the voice on the other end, sounding shaky and fearful.

"Mom? I-I'm on the coach. What's going on?" Allison replied back, recognizing the voice instantly, but the tone in it was really worrying her.

"T-they suddenly came here, they knocked on the d-door and then barged in w-w-when I answered. T-they had guns!" Allison's eyes widened at the sound of people with firearms in her home. "I had to hide from them."

"Who did, mom? Who are you hiding from?" she asked, her voice rising as she started to panic, frightened that she was listening in on a home invasion in her own home. Olivier looked slightly alarmed at the conversation and looked back to her, about to say something. "Did you call the cops?" she asked, ignoring the Canadian next to her.

"They won't help me, it was--oh no, they found me!" Her mother's voice went quieter as if the phone was taken away from her face. "N-no, I w-wasn't talking to my daughter! Please, don't do this to me, no! _No!_"

Allison shrieked and dropped the phone when she heard the rattling sound of machine gun fire on the other end of the line. All at once, everyone on the bus stopped singing and fell silent, turning to her as she desperately scrambled over Olivier to get to the aisle, and then made her way to the front of the bus.

"Allison? What 'appened?" Olivier called after her, getting no answer from the girl. She got to the front where Mr. Irving and Natalie Ellis, the class president, were sitting.

"Allison, was that you screaming back there?" Natalie asked, Lee and Darrell looking over the back of her seat to see what was going on.

"Please, stop the bus, I want to get off!" Allison shouted, tears starting to trickle down her face and causing her long curly brown hair to stick to her cheeks like sideburns.

"What in the--what happened?" Mr. Irving asked, noticing how upset she was. "Who did this to you?" he asked, thinking someone on the coach had upset, or worse, hurt her.

"My mom called me, and, and then someone shot her while she was talking to me!" Allison struggled to get the words out as she hiccoughed. The teacher and the class president looked speechless as the girl sniffled.

"Allison, if this is a way to get out of this trip-" Mr. Irving said.

"You think I would lie about something like that?!" Allison practically shouted in hysterics before he could finish.

"She wouldn't make this sort of thing up, I know her," Natalie said, looking grim as the news that one of her friend's parents just got murdered began to sink in. Allison looked a little grateful that someone believed her at least. She turned to the driver, unable to see his face.

"Please, stop the bus, I have to get off," she pleaded to him, starting to feel very sick to the stomach.

"I'm not stopping, get back to your seat," the driver simply said, keeping his face straight ahead on the road. It felt like someone had just brought a sledgehammer to Allison's gut, which didn't help the fact she felt she was going to vomit any second. Both Natalie and Mr. Irving looked at each other, confused as to why he was denying such a simple request.

"This guy's been a complete asshole all day, I have no idea what his problem is," Mr. Irving said as he got up to talk to the driver himself. "Excuse me, but she's visibly traumatized," he asserted. "She's in no condition to continue this trip for the moment, so it would be in everyone's best intere-"

"I said we're not stopping!" the driver suddenly yelled, finally turning to face them.

"Why does he have a gas mask on?" Natalie asked to no one in particular, noticing the weird breathing apparatus on his head. The driver flicked a switch and the hissing of the air conditioning grew louder.

* * *

"Hm? What's going on?" Arthur wondered, diverting his attention from the front to the vents above his head as the air billowing out became louder, colder, and seemingly damper as well. "Did you just turn this... up…?" he asked his brother, suddenly feeling very sleepy and pretty nauseous.

"Hey, bro, are you okay?" Mark asked, poking his brother's shoulder. Arthur didn't reply and just slumped against the window, completely out cold. "Arthur? _Arthur!_" He tried shaking his brother's shoulders, his head just flopping back and forth like a ragdoll. Samantha looked round from in front after hearing the older brother shouting.

"What's going on?" she asked, putting her hand up to her forehead as she started to feel a little light-headed herself.

"I don't know, he just passed out!" Mark shouted as best he could, his mind beginning to cloud over as well. Fumiko and Perry, sitting together near the middle, looked round and saw that the younger brother wasn't the only one affected. The horror movie fan Franklin Sharpe, deaf student Graham and artist Francesca Young, they were all out of it now as well, and more people were joining them by the second. Paula Garrison had slumped asleep against her boyfriend Stuart Kitson's chest while still tightly embracing him. Stuart, worried by her sudden passing out, had tried to wake her back up by shaking her and even lightly slapping her cheek, but to no avail and he soon joined her in unconsciousness. That was all the proof Fumiko needed.

"Oh God, it's really happening!" she shrieked, jumping up and trying to batter at the windows, while Perry tried holding his breath as he helped her. The rest of the students who were still awake, noticing something was indeed wrong and hearing Fumiko shouting out, attempted to smash their way out or try to turn the air conditioning off. It was no good; the windows weren't even chipping, even with tough boys David and Kieron slamming their fists and feet at the panes. The air vents remained jammed open and would not shut, and even the emergency escape window was locked tight, as Leah and Kirsty (Mallory and Imani were already asleep) found out at the back. Mr. Irving, Natalie, Allison and Darrell were trying to get the driver to stop, but no one could get through to him or the controls. All their efforts to escape grew weaker as the levels of the sleeping agent built up in the coach, and they soon became too tired to do anything else but sleep. Perry couldn't hold his breath any longer and had to let it go, collapsing down on his seat next to Fumiko, who was now unconscious, and eventually dropped off himself, the last student to do so.

The bus driver looked round briefly as he continued along the highway, seeing everybody on the bus, bar him, were knocked out and sprawled over their seats and in the aisle. Smiling to himself, he pressed a different button on the dashboard, opening up a radio link.

"Victor, is that you?" came a voice on the other end, muffled slightly by the speakers on the coach.

"Yes, it's me. I called to tell you that all thirty-eight students on the coach have been rendered unconscious," the driver said into a microphone imbedded in his mask. "Is there any word on the remaining contestants?"

"Five of them arrived late at school, just after you'd left, but they've been rounded up," the voice replied. "Two of those were darted, the other three gassed. Another one was found in the town's park, obviously skipping school. He was apprehended eventually, but put up a struggle. We also brought in that other girl who was going to leave the country. So apart from those small inconveniences, everything's on schedule. We're all go for this month's Program."

"Good, I'll be arriving at the air base in just under forty minutes, then they're all yours."

**Game Start: T minus 11 hours, 21 minutes (00:00 EDT)  
Students remaining: 45**

**

* * *

**

_A/N: If you're interested, here are the translations for what Olivier and Allison were saying;_

_Nous avons environs deux ou trois heures, je pense. -- We've got about two or three hours, I think.  
C'est trop lon(g) -- That's too lon(g).  
Oh, attends un peu, c'est mon portable. -- Oh, hang on a bit, it's my phone._


	4. Hour 0: A Lesson in Death

**Thursday 12th June 2014, 23:18 EDT  
Game Start: T minus 42 minutes (00:00 EDT)**

'_Ow... dammit my head hurts..._'

Richard Oakhurst mumbled incoherently as his gas-induced sleep was finally coming to an end. Scrunching his eyes up, he groaned, putting a hand up and massaging his temple to try and get rid of the headache that had formed while he was passed out.

'_Did I bang it against something?_' he wondered, slowly opening his eyes and seeing some very faint light falling onto the desk he'd been dozing on from a window to the left of him.

'_Wait, why am I leaning on a desk? And why is it dark here? Is it night time already? What the heck happened on the coach?_' he mentally asked, his brain still running a little slowly, gradually getting back up to speed as his headache cleared and the memories of the journey from hell finally came back to him. The last thing Richard remembered was singing with everyone else on the coach, getting up to 93 green bottles, then hearing Allison scream suddenly and run down the front towards the teacher and the driver. Franklin, sitting next to him, suddenly passed out with no warning, and after that, nothing came to mind.

His sense of smell was coming back to him, and he wrinkled his nose as the faint smell of urine hung in the air. Slowly sitting up and running a hand slowly through his short but unkempt black hair, he looked around the dark room he was in. He could see several green lights dotted everywhere around him, flashing like fairy lights on a Christmas tree, lighting the room up slightly in an eerie green aura, and showing the outlines of several bodies lying on the floor and sitting at other desks like he was. At first, he couldn't tell who they were, or if they were even alive or not. As the fog lifted in his mind and his eyes adjusted to the extremely dim light, he could see that they were his classmates from the coach, and all were starting to wake up themselves.

To the right of him, he could see Darrell sprawled out across a desk, looking most uncomfortable with his face pressing right against the wooden surface. To his left, Kirsty sat at another desk, beginning to stir as the effect of the sleeping agent wore out in her system as well. Down at his feet, where the stench seemed to be strongest, his best friend Barry was slumbering, crouched up like a giant fetus. Richard wondered where the hell he came from, since he wasn't even on the coach to begin with. Richard nudged him with his shoe, hoping to wake him up.

"Ugh… I don't wanna go to some stupid museum trip, mom," Barry grumbled, rolling over away from the offending footwear and bumping into Leah, who moaned slightly and tried leaning up, lazily brushing the long strands of hair out of her face.

"Barry, wake up, something is very, _very_, wrong here!" Richard hissed, leaning over his desk to the sleeping form.

"Richard… is that you...?" Barry spoke as he tilted his head up, not even bothering to open his eyes. "What are you doing in my room?" he asked in a weak, tired voice. "Man, what a nightmare..."

"We're not in your room, we're… somewhere else, I don't have a clue where though," Richard replied, glancing around to the others. Many of the other teens in the room were now awake, and just as confused as he was, some even frightened. There was a sudden flurry of questions as the students regained their bearings.

"Hey! Where the hell are we? Isabel, are you there?" Nicholas Walsh shouted out, trying to attract the attention of his girlfriend.

"Yeah, I'm here, Nick, what's going on?" Isabel Callahan replied from across the room. "I'm scared!"

"Does anyone know what all these green lights are?" Jonathan Newman asked from somewhere in the room. No one answered him, either ignoring him or not knowing the answer.

"Okay, who pissed themselves?!" Kieron yelled out. "Seriously, someone break a window or something!"

"W-what am I doing here?" a female voice shouted loudly. Many of the students were clueless as to what was going on. For some of them however, it was already beginning to dawn on them.

"Shit! Fumiko, did you say this was… the Program…?" David asked in his deep voice, instantly silencing everyone around him. Fumiko whimpered silently, remembering the events in the coach and having blurted it out. It wasn't a false alarm, she'd thought, it was the real deal this time.

"For all of our sakes, I just hope it's not," Stuart called out from the near-darkness, Paula whimpering louder a little as she hung tighter onto his stomach. Though they couldn't be seen in the darkness, tears were working their way down her pretty face.

The lights suddenly cut on.

Everyone cried out as they were almost blinded by the sudden change in brightness, turning their heads away and shielding their eyes as they slowly adjusted to the bright light. When their eyes had become accustomed to the fluorescent lights shining down on them, the students saw they were sitting/standing in some kind of classroom, but one that didn't look like it belonged in Pinefalls High. While the room was decked out with a chalkboard, teacher's desk, some children's finger paintings on the walls and even a large TV screen positioned beside the desk, it all looked like it hadn't been used to teach anything in years. The walls were beginning to crack with the white paint peeling off the brickwork and the corners of the ceiling were littered with spider webs. Worryingly, the brown floorboards underneath their feet had some large faded red stains. And that wasn't the only thing that some of the students noticed...

"Victoria? What the hell are you doing here?" Ursula exclaimed, seeing the girl who was supposed to have left the country sitting just inches away from her.

"I don't know..." Victoria whimpered, looking completely distressed. Toni, Tamsin and Barry all looked frightened as well, still affected by their ordeal. Strangely enough, both Greg and Rachel seemed to be as cool as a cucumber about the whole situation they found themselves in, but in the other students' heightened panic, their abnormal reaction went unnoticed. The final absentee from the coach, William Blackwell, was also present in the classroom, but he didn't seem to be scared, he instead looked pissed off about it all.

"Barry, why weren't you on the coach... what the hell is that on your hoodie? And did you piss yourself?" Jodie asked, seeing the dark red stain of the bus driver's blood on his clothing and noticing the odor in the room was coming from him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking down and seeing the maroon mess on his top. "Oh God, it wasn't a nightmare?" he gasped, scraping his fingernails against the dried blood to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.

"What wasn't a nightmare?" Richard asked, wondering what had happened to his friend.

Before Barry could answer, the door of the room suddenly opened up, making some of the students jump and causing those nearest the exit to shuffle away quickly. A man and a woman, both Asian-looking and wearing smart black uniforms each, walked in with the man carrying a pile of papers underneath his arm, and the woman carrying a DVD case. That's not what shocked the students most though. Following them into the classroom were five soldiers, wearing US army uniforms and all carrying a rifle each. Two of them remained by the doors, holding their firearms up, the other three positioning themselves either side and in front of the two newcomers. Toni thought she recognized at least one of the soldiers from earlier on.

"Good evening, class," the smartly dressed man said, dropping the stack of papers onto the desk with a loud thud. He looked around at the forty-five teenagers in the room, expecting them to reply to him. Many of the students had ignored him though, and were instead staring at the soldiers who flanked him on either side and guarded the door. The woman beside the man cleared her throat loudly, grabbing their attention away from the armed men.

"First rule of class is that you all pay attention to your teachers," she said. "When we say good evening, you're supposed to say good evening back. So let's try that again," she said. "Good evening, class."

"Good evening," the class replied, not putting much enthusiasm into their words. The man just sighed at the lackluster response.

"Huh, well it's better than nothing," he spoke, picking up a piece of chalk off the desk to write on the board behind him.

"Excuse me, but who are-"

"Second rule is that if you have a question to ask, you put your hand up first," he said, cutting Yvonne off in mid-speech. She sighed and put her hand up in the air. "You have a question?" the man asked, smiling slightly.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I was just getting to that," he said, using the chalk to write up some East Asian characters on the board. Fumiko was quick to notice he was writing their names out. "For those who don't speak our language, this one reads my name, Taro Yamada," he spoke, pointing to the name on the left. "I am one of your two teachers for the next couple of days. This is my associate and your other teacher, Hanako Yamada," he replied, pointing to the name next to his. "And you are Yvonne Thompson, am I correct?" he asked. She nodded quietly. Someone else put their hand up. "You there, Jonathan Newman, yes?"

"Yeah, what are these things?" the math whizz asked, pointing to the metallic collar around his neck, the green light still flashing regularly. Many of the students hadn't even noticed they were wearing one, some students gasping in horror when they felt the lukewarm metal that clicked in response to their touch. "All will be explained in due time," Taro said. "Although I don't want you trying to remove them," he added, seeing Arthur tugging lightly at him. "I'm talking about you, Mr. Turner." Both Arthur and Mark looked up, the former dropping his hands to his sides.

"But I wasn't doing anything," Mark protested.

"I was addressing your younger, albeit smarter, brother," Taro simply responded, Mark looking down at the ground after being put down like that. "And don't talk back to me, didn't they teach you any manners where you came from? Anyway, I'll take one more question and then it's time for the video." Right now, many of the students wanted to know if they were indeed in the Program, but those who wanted to confirm their worst fears were too scared to ask. Natalie put her hand up, but not to ask the burning question.

"Where's Mr. Irving?" she asked, no, _demanded_, standing up from her chair. Taro inhaled through his teeth, like a police officer preparing to tell a mother that her child was involved in a deadly crash. This wasn't going to bode well, and Natalie seemed to know the answer before he said it.

"Ah, well, after he learnt what was in store for you guys, he got a little violent towards us and… we had to have him killed for insubordination. Such a shame, I heard he was such a good teacher with you guys." Natalie stared blankly at Taro for only a couple of seconds, before collapsing back on her chair in shock. Some of the other students seemed to be having trouble comprehending this information as well. Many more put their hands up, but Taro just shook his head. "I said no more questions, I'm sure they'll be answered in the video." He nodded to Hanako, who took the DVD out of the case she carried and placed it into the player, turning the large TV on. At first, there was only static, but it cleared to a black screen, with a large red insignia, the initials 'BR' written in the middle of a large laurel circle, with a theme reminiscent of a war-time march playing in the background.

"Oh shit…" someone in the crowd gasped. Their worst fear had finally been confirmed for them all. They were indeed in the Program.

Everyone in the room knew what they were in for now, and almost all of them looked horrified. Jodie gasped in horror, Tamsin whimpered and clung onto her step-sister, Caroline screamed and covered her mouth, and Zach even fainted. Some of them didn't look at all fazed however. William was no longer pissed off and was back to looking as cocky as always, and Lee looked excited, whispering "this is much more exciting than a museum trip" under his breath. Greg and Rachel still looked calm and composed, though a slight flicker of a grin displayed itself on Greg's face for a millisecond.

The song on the video died away and the BR logo cut straight to a Japanese woman, who looked to be only in her early twenties, compared to Hanako who looked to be in her thirties.

"_Good evening, class 3-A from Pinefalls High! You have been the lucky students chosen to take part in this month's Educational Reform Act Program, or as we like to call it, the Battle Royale!_" she spoke in an excited manner, like a toddler who'd taken an overdose of additives. "_Considering this is the 19th Battle Royale, many of you will probably be already up to date as to what the game involves, but for those of you who may not know what's going to happen, never fear! I'm here to explain it all! Now, the reason why you are here is because you kids have been very, very naughty towards the adults! So, in order to get their own back on you, the government borrowed the Battle Royale from us, in which there is only one rule._" She paused for a second, glancing left and right as if looking out for anyone watching. "_You have to kill your classmates until there's only one of you left standing!_"

At this point, the flashing on some of the lights on the collars began to increase in frequency.

On the video, the wall behind the girl changed to a picture of a 3D model of the Earth suspended in the darkness of space. The camera began zooming in on the planet, focusing on the Eastern Seaboard of America until it reached an island somewhere off the north-east coast. When it stopped zooming in, the satellite image of the isle changed to a more detailed map, showing roads, buildings, rivers, everything.

"_As you may know, the location changes between games,_" she said. "_This is the island where you are right now, site A. It's called Dante's Island and is situated 30km off the coast of Massachusetts. It's approximately 5km long and 5km wide, so it's the perfect size for us to play our game! It's not too big and it's not too small! Now, the island is divided by this grid into squares that are 500m by 500m,_" she explained, as straight lines appeared and criss-crossed perpendicular to each other over the island.

"_These mark out the different zones on the island, which I will explain about in a little while. The game starts at midnight tonight, and every six hours from then, your teacher will give announcements about who has been killed and where the next danger zones will be! But what is a danger zone, I hear you cry!_" In actual fact, no one in the class said anything at all, all were too scared or too busy focusing on the video, not wanting to miss a single, potentially life-saving detail.

Back on the video, a grid square on the island turned red, and the woman pointed to it. "_Oh! I found one! A danger zone is an area that becomes permanently off limits, and you won't be allowed to enter one, or…_" she trailed off, leaving many of the class looking among themselves in suspense. A few who had watched the game before already knew what would happen.

"_Well, first I'll explain the next part! You may have noticed these collars around your necks, aren't they neat?_" the woman continued, still acting overly-happy, while a CG picture of a revolving collar displayed itself behind her, replacing the map. "_Sorry girls, you can't buy this jewelry at any shops, such a shame, I know. But back on topic, these are 100 percent shockproof, waterproof, remove-proof, everything-proof! They flash with a green light in time with your pulse, and track your movements across the island, so your teachers can keep tabs on you and tell if you're alive or, err, dead. However, if you try to escape from the island or walk into one of those nasty danger zones, then a radio signal is sent to your collar and a countdown is triggered,_" she said, while the light on the collar behind her turned red and started blinking faster. "_And then, when the countdown of thirty seconds is finished, the four explosive charges in the collar will be triggered and then EXPLODE!_" Nearly everyone in the room jumped and yelled out (Zach even woke back up), mostly due to the fact she'd screamed the last word. Plenty of their hands went up to their collars, trying to remove them, despite being told not to by Taro earlier.

"_Oh, and don't try to remove them, they'll explode instantly if you attempt to do so,_" the young woman said with a wink. All hands went back down in a flash while she continued.

"_The game will last 72 hours, that's three whole days. If there is more than one person alive after that time, then all the remaining collars will detonate, so we will have no winners, isn't that sad?_"

"Probably not to you fucktards," Duncan muttered under his breath. Luckily neither Taro nor Hanako seemed to have heard him.

The woman on the video walked over to a table which had an assortment of items lying on top of it. "_To help you last throughout the following hours out on the island, we're supplying you with these large duffel bags," she said, holding one up proudly, then putting it down and pointing to the items on the table. "These contain three bread rolls and two bottles of water, a map of the island with a list of your classmates, a torch and a compass. Of course, in order for you to actually fight properly, we'll provide you with weapons as well. They're all distributed randomly amongst yourselves, so there's no knowing what you'll receive. You could get anything from this,_" she said, holding up a pair of boxing gloves and shaking her head. "_To this._" She reached down and picked up an IMI Uzi, grinning like a Cheshire cat and nodding madly. Quite a few of the kids shuddered at the sight of the firearm, knowing what damage and bloodshed it could cause. The woman threw the gun and the boxing gloves to the side, accompanied by a comical scream by someone off screen, to explain the next part.

"_And finally, to spice things up during the match, we're introducing a new element for this particular game. Dotted throughout the island, we have these special boxes,_" she said, as a revolving picture of a shiny golden box with red question marks on all six sides appeared on the wall behind her. "_There're twelve of these bonus boxes hiding around the island, and there're plenty of surprises hiding inside these, so if you find one, open it quickly to find out what you got! None of us know what items will be in the boxes, so you may end up getting a better or a worse weapon than one you already have. Obviously, we can't tell you exactly where the boxes are, that would be too easy for you, but I'll give you a hint; no two boxes are in the same zone, and like your bags, no two boxes contain the same weapon,_" she explained, grinning excitedly and eagerly rubbing her hands. "_Aaand... that's it for explaining things, so I'll leave the rest up to your teachers. So goodbye, fight well, and may the best man, or woman, win!_" she said, waving and kissing farewell to the class before the screen faded to black and the video ended. The rest of the class just sat in silence, until one of the boys started laughing at the back.

"C'mon, you expect us to buy this bullshit?" Vance said loudly to his classmates.

"Mr. Petrovic, will you kindly be quiet and let us continue?" Hanako said sternly.

"Fuck no," he shouted back. "Any minute now Mr. Irving is going to pop in the room and say we're on Candid Camera or something."

"Mr. Petrovic, we're warning you. Please keep quiet or we will be forced to take action," Taro said, visibly losing his patience.

"Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it?" Vance asked.

Taro did nothing about it. Hanako did though, and one of the girls screamed when something silver sailed over her head.

Vance's laugh faded instantly when a sharp shooting pain shot up from his hand. Looking down to his left, he saw the source; a throwing knife was sticking out through his hand, pinning it to the wall with blood trickling down from the wound onto the floorboards. Many of the students were looking speechlessly at him, Tristan even violently threw up when he saw what had happened to his hand. Taro calmly walked over to the rebel, students shuffling out of his way to let him through. He quickly yanked the knife out of Vance's hand, who yelled loudly when the blade slid past his flesh again, pocketed the bloodstained weapon and walked back to the front to rejoin Hanako, who had two other knives in her hand, having held three just seconds before.

"Hopefully you'll be more cooperative with us now," Taro said, picking up the class list off the pile of papers he'd carried in and had a read down it. "So, let me see here," he said, turning round to face the class, holding the list in his hand. "There're twenty-three males and twenty-two females in your class. Unfortunately, that's one too many males. We're looking for an even number of each, so as much as I don't want to do this, we're going to have to get rid of one of you guys before the game starts," he said. From the way he said it, the students knew that he didn't mean sending one student home alive; he meant sending one student home in a body bag. Someone was going to die before they even had the chance to fight for survival.

"I wish you would have told me earlier, I could have aimed for Vance's head and got the job done already," Hanako pouted, while Vance glared up at her, clutching his wrist.

"Ah well, never mind. Who wants to be the volunteer to bite the dust first, any takers?" Taro asked, looking across the class at the male population, who looked very reluctant and avoided his gaze whenever he looked at them. Then, one of the girls stood up.

"You're both a pair of sick fucks, you know that?! Relishing in killing off people like that, what is wrong with you people?!" the bushy chestnut haired girl screamed. Taro just looked calmly down at the class list again, while Hanako just stared at her blankly, seemingly unfazed by the outburst.

"So, Whitney Johannsen, the name rings a bell," he spoke, stroking his stubbly chin. "Ah yes, I was there when we visited your parents, Harold and Emily Johannsen, I see they passed down their outspoken, rebellious nature to you. Too bad they're not alive anymore to see you again, that's if you do indeed win this Program."

"W-what?" Whitney spoke in shock, wondering if she'd registered what Taro just said correctly. "Did you just say my parents are dead?!"

"Oh, of course, we forgot to tell you," Hanako announced to the whole class. "We informed all your parents that you'd be taking part in this month's Battle Royale, and naturally quite a few of them were very unhappy to hear that. Some even became violent, so we had to kill those that resisted, just like your teacher," she said. Allison immediately burst into tears again, finally realizing what had happened to her mother. Victoria also started crying as well.

"_You_ killed my parents?!" Whitney screamed.

"Oh yes, your parents became very violent towards our soldiers, as did Miss Young's and Mr. Lessing's parents, but Miss Feldman's father had the smart idea to shoot one of them dead. That cost him his life as well as the lives of Deanna and Trevor Feldman," Taro explained.

Bethany gasped and looked up at the sound of her relatives' names. The whole class was looking at the pair of teachers in shock as well, except for Francesca who suddenly broke down sobbing, and Allison and Victoria who already were.

Trevor was Bethany's younger brother, and was only nine years old.

"Oh, in case you're wondering, Bethany, I ordered the killing of your family, all because your father had to try and fight the system. Fighting it only gets yourself and other people hurt, or in this case, killed." Taro said. Bethany just opened and shut her mouth in shock, trying to talk, but unable to get the words out. Her friend spoke out on her behalf.

"How could you do that to them?!" Whitney roared, kicking a table away. "They were innocent people! You sick bastard! I'll kill you!" But before she could even take a step towards the two of them, the soldiers in the room ran up and grabbed her. "Hey! Get off of me you idiots! Let go!"

"Whitney, what did I just say about fighting against authority?" Taro asked, looking back at the student checklist and walking towards her. He pulled a remote control out of his pocket, pressing a few buttons and pointed it at her throat.

"What are you doing?" she asked, staring at the remote being aimed at her neck, her anger changing to fright. Taro said nothing and pressed a large grey button, a red light appearing at the end of the remote and disappearing soon after. The soldiers let go of Whitney, but still drew their guns out in case she tried anything funny.

"What did you just do to her?!" Bethany demanded, finally finding her voice.

"Oh, don't worry, Miss Feldman. He didn't do anything, well, at least not to her anyway," Hanako said, letting the words sink in to the class. There was a loud beep from the centre of the room, then another one, and that was followed by a shriek from Tamsin.

"Duncan! Your collar!" she screamed, scrambling away from him. The gang member looked down, unable to see what was going on below his chin.

"G-guys, what's going on?" he asked in a shaky voice, starting to panic. David, Juan and Kieron all looked towards him when hearing his voice and their jaws dropped.

The light on his collar had turned red, and was flashing and beeping independently from his pulse, like it had done on the video.

"You should all know what's going to happen next if you've been paying attention to the video," Taro announced to the class. "His collar's going to detonate." The students sitting around Duncan immediately sprang up as if he was now harboring some kind of deadly disease.

"I'd get away from him now or he'll take you out with him!" Hanako warned. The rest of the students leapt to their feet and moved as far away as physically possible from Duncan, many of them screaming as they pressed against the walls of the room. The red-haired teen looked around, seeing the rest of his gang over by the windows and made a beeline for them.

"You guys, please, help me!" he desperately cried out over the accelerating beeping of his collar as he tried to pull it off from around his neck. He grabbed the photographer by the arms and shook him, Juan almost crying at the fact a triggered high powered explosive was positioned just inches away from his face.

"Get off him!" David yelled, punching Duncan in the face, shocking Juan and Kieron, as well as Ursula and Corey, who were either side of the boys. Duncan let go of Juan, instinctively rubbing his jaw, but approached the gang again.

"I'm sorry, man!" David called out, reaching out and pushing his friend away hard, so much so that his friend fell to the floor. Duncan got back to his feet from being pushed down, the beeping was now just a continuous ringing and the light looked like it wasn't even flashing anymore. As he stood in the centre of the room, he turned back to the class huddled at the far end and yelled loudly.

"Please, God, I don't want to d-"

He never got to finish his sentence. There was a loud bang, similar to the sound of a fuse blowing out, as the front of the collar exploded, ripping apart Duncan's throat in a cloud of blood and bodily tissue, causing the remaining forty-four students to scream and duck down to avoid metal shrapnel and arterial blood flying from his neck. The force of the explosion violently thrust his head back, snapping the vertebrae in his neck and severing the spinal cord as a result, mercifully killing the teen instantly. Now unable to stand, Duncan's body collapsed backwards like a falling tree and landed hard on the floor, bouncing slightly then coming to a rest. The blood gushed down from the large fresh neck wound like a crimson waterfall and pooled underneath him, drenching his clothes and turning his white T-shirt bright red. His eyes glazed over and stared lifelessly towards the fluorescent lights, never to blink again.

The Turner brothers and Zach, who were unlucky enough to be right in front of Duncan when his collar went off, found themselves covered with a fine spray of his blood. Zach put his hand up to his mouth and a created a second pool of vomit on the floor. Kieron's legs suddenly gave way and he collapsed to his knees, having to be held up by David and Juan. Virtually everyone else were all in a state of shock, having just witnessed one of their fellow students have his throat split open by one of the teachers, neither of whom seemed to batter an eyelid. At least the room didn't smell of urine anymore.

"I did try to warn you, Whitney," Taro calmly spoke as if there hadn't just been a gruesome death in front of him. "When you fight us, you get other people killed, just like Leo Feldman managed to do."

He paused, watching the students stand all bunched together, many of them crying, Whitney and the three gang members now just staring at Duncan's body. Taro took a glance at his watch and looked surprised at the time.

"Well, well, it's already 23:55, only five minutes until the game starts," he said. Moments later, the classroom door burst open again, making many of the students jump. A couple more soldiers entered the room, bringing the total in there up to seven. The two newcomers pushed a pair of racks in front of them, both of them adorned with several large khaki colored duffel bags. Forty-four of them to be exact.

"You'll be called out one at a time, boy-girl-boy in alphabetical order, every sixty seconds to collect your bags and then you will leave the school _immediately_," Hanako spoke, emphasizing the last word. "Seven minutes after the last student leaves, at ten to one, the zone that the school is situated in will become a danger zone. That's area G3 on your maps, so be sure to make a note of it. Enter the zone after that time, and you'll end up looking like Duncan there," she added on, looking at the dead boy whose blood was still trickling along the floorboards, adding another fresher stain to the others on the floor. "Though Taro only detonated one of the charges in this poor guy's collar, so you might end up looking much worse." There was the sound of a quieter beeping, causing some of the students to jump again, thinking another collar had been detonated. It turned out however to be Taro's wristwatch as it hit the hour.

"It's now midnight, so let's get things started. First one out, Male #1: Tristan Armstrong."

* * *

**GAME START – 00:00 EDT, 13th June 2014  
Hours remaining: 72  
Students remaining: 44  
Students eliminated pregame: Student A – Duncan Marshall**

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* * *

**

_A/N: Wow, this is the longest chapter so far. It was originally going to be split up into two, but the first part was too short so I recombined them. Would you say this was too long or about right?_


	5. The Participants

**Allocation of code-numbers to students is now complete. Codes have been transferred to students' collars for tracking purposes.  
Below is the list of students in gender-numeric order and the sequence they will be leaving the school in:**

Male #1: Tristan Armstrong

Female #1: Samantha Barker

Male #2: William Blackwell

Female #2: Rachel Barry

Male #3: Kieron Bolt

Female #3: Isabel Callahan

Male #4: Perry Carter

Female #4: Mallory Derwent

Male #5: Lee Dawford

Female #5: Caroline Easton

Male #6: Olivier Dumont

Female #6: Natalie Ellis

Male #7: Darrell Fischer

Female #7: Bethany Feldman

Male #8: Gregory Higgins

Female #8: Tamsin Forrest

Male #9: Stuart Kitson

Female #9: Paula Garrison

Male #10: David Lessing

Female #10: Jodie Holland

Male #11: Graham MacLeod

Female #11: Fumiko Igarashi

Male #12: Jonathan Newman

Female #12: Whitney Johannsen

Male #13: Richard Oakhurst

Female #13: Toni Mitchell

Male #14: Corey O'Donoghue

Female #14: Kirsty Nichols

Male #15: Vance Petrovic

Female #15: Victoria Norton

Male #16: Zachary Reilly

Female #16: Deborah Rainer

Male #17: Juan Rivera

Female #17: Allison Shepherd

Male #18: Franklin Sharpe

Female #18: Leah Smith

Male #19: Barry Sykes

Female #19: Ursula Steine

Male #20: Arthur Turner

Female #20: Yvonne Thompson

Male #21: Mark Turner

Female #21: Imani Velasquez

Male #22: Nicholas Walsh

Female #22: Francesca Young

* * *

**Eliminated Student(s)**

_Student A: Duncan Marshall_


	6. Hour 1: Exodus

**Hour 1: 00:00 – 00:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

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* * *

**

"Male #1: Tristan Armstrong, we're waiting for you," Taro repeated the first participant's name. Tristan finally responded and walked out from the group huddled at the back of the room, clearly frightened and would have thrown up again, if he had anything left in his weak stomach to actually throw up. He stopped walking after just a couple of paces, standing still and looking back to everyone as if he wanted them to help him.

"Hurry up and collect your bag and leave the room, Mr. Armstrong, you're wasting your head start over everyone else in the class!" Hanako shouted as she was losing her patience, causing Tristan to turn back to the front, standing paralyzed like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest and the tears welling up in his eyes. He really didn't want to leave.

"Move it or lose it!" one of the soldiers yelled at him, clicking his rifle and pointing it at his head. There was a collective gasp from the other students who backed away as best they could, in case Tristan really did lose it, his head that is.

The threat was enough to get Tristan walking the rest of the way to the front of the room. He barely caught the khaki duffel bag that was tossed at him by another one of the seven soldiers, his arms shaking so badly he nearly dropped it, just catching it by one of the handles before it could hit the floor. He cast one final look at the class and at his friend Graham. He put on a brave face, smiling weakly to him and giving him a quick hand signal, telling him to meet up in a specific location using the one language no one else in the class understood: sign language.

Then he took off, only thankful in the fact there wouldn't be anyone waiting out there to kill him when he got out. He ran past at least ten other soldiers on either side of the corridor, all armed and ready to shoot at anyone who tried heading back into the classroom. Turning a corner, he burst through the double doors of the school entrance, reaching the outside. He was immediately greeted by the chilly night, shivering slightly even though it was mid-June. But then again, he did only have a T-shirt and shorts on, having left his jacket in his schoolbag which was probably confiscated before the game started.

He inhaled deeply, breathing in the faint scent of grass and pine, which beat the terrible stench of blood and urine hands down. He scanned the surroundings as best as possible in the dim light from the moon and a single working street light, knowing he had less than a minute until the next person was let out. There were some low hedges directly opposite the entrance, with trees and other tall vegetation behind those bushes, and a gravel path in between that and the school building. He was about to pull the map out of his bag so he could see where the mountain was exactly, only knowing it to be somewhere near the south-east of the island as seen on the map featured in the video. However, the sound of heavy, rapid footsteps from inside the school told him that participant number two was already on her way out. Picking his bag up, Tristan dashed away down the path and out of sight just as Samantha Barker (Female #1) arrived at the entrance, not bothering to stop and check the map or to check her weapon in her bag. She just ran as fast as her well-exercised legs could take her, as far away from the school as possible. She knew who would be out of the school right after her, and she didn't want to hang around to greet him.

* * *

"Give it up for the soccer star, Male #2: William Blackwell!" Taro announced, grinning as he called out the third person's name and number. William, the Pinefalls Panthers' midfielder and the only one of the school soccer team in their class, kept his smirk on his face and chuckled slightly as he walked to the front of the room from next to Mallory, earning some nervous glances from the rest of the group, some looking even more worried at his reaction to the situation.

'_Is he seriously going to play the game?_' many of them were thinking. Many were praying he wasn't. He strutted to the front and caught his bag with both hands as it was thrown to him.

"Later, losers," he simply said, turning his back to the class and casually strolling out the room, leaving many of the students thinking of him less as an arrogant jock but more as being a dangerous competitor. When he had gone, some people spent the next minute planning possible strategies with their friends, such as places to meet up.

"Female #2: Rachel Barry, you're up!" Hanako spoke, reading out the names of the female participants. Rachel giggled a bit and stepped forward upon hearing her name, her dark purple lips twisted into a slight grin that looked completely out of place on her face. Her grin looked less smug than Will's; it just looked demented instead. She calmly collected her bag and faced the class, laughing louder with her grin opening wider, sending terror chills down the backs of many of the students. To Barry, Toni and Tamsin, this wasn't the same girl who'd been with them when the soldiers had abducted them outside the school gates. Rachel was supposed to be the nice and friendly girl, the one who dressed sort of like a goth but didn't act like one, the one who was smart and kind enough to help you with your math homework if you didn't know what to do. Now, she just looked and sounded insane. Somehow, her personality had done a one-eighty while she'd been out of it. To say it creeped them out would be an understatement.

"Dammit, I'm next," Kieron said worriedly in the vicinity of his two remaining friends as Rachel walked out of the room. He, Juan and David were sitting on the floor by the windows, and still coming to terms with the loss of their friend just ten minutes previously. Kieron glanced at Duncan's body, whose blood was still oozing out of the gaping hole in his throat and spreading along the floorboards but at a slower rate as it coagulated. The heavy loss of blood made his fair skin even paler, which made his short red hair stand out much more.

'_You didn't do anything to deserve this, man,_' Kieron thought sadly. He looked to Whitney, who was still staring at Duncan, not moving either and barely even blinking. He knew he should be feeling immense hatred for her, since it was her outburst that had cost Duncan his life. But at the same time he also knew she hadn't meant for him to die in the first place, and from the way she was acting, she looked like she was having a mental breakdown over it.

Sighing, he turned to the two remaining gang members. "We need to come up with a plan," he whispered, but nearly jumped out of his skin when his name was called out by Taro.

"Wait for us outside the school if you can," David said quietly to him. "If not, we all meet up at that village near the mountain. Then we can come up with something." Kieron nodded, David patting him on the shoulder before letting the African-American student depart, who mumbled a quick farewell to the body on the floor that used to be one of his best friends. Catching and hefting his assigned bag over his shoulder, he walked down the corridor to the double doors, looking for a suitable place to lie low once he got outside. He expected to find a couple of bushes or trees he could hide under.

He didn't expect Rachel Barry (Female #2) to be waiting right outside for him.

The girl ran at him from the side without warning as soon as he stepped out, holding what looked like a club or bat of some sort in her hands. Kieron yelled and just managed to duck out of the way as the bat swished over his head harmlessly.

Being the second tallest in the class (5'11" and a half, just half an inch under Stuart) had its disadvantages in this situation: it was much harder to dodge when the person attacking was nearly half a foot shorter than him. Had the swing been any lower, he'd likely be the first casualty of the game and would have joined his buddy in the afterlife sooner than he would have liked. He saw Rachel's reaction at being called out to leave back in the classroom, and he was at a loss as to why she had been acting like that, and why she was now trying to cave his head in. This wasn't like her at all. Another swing luckily missed him and he heard the bat hit a low-hanging branch with a metallic clang.

'_Crap, it's made of metal!_' he screamed in his mind, avoiding yet another swipe of the girl's aluminum baseball bat. He was only thankful that Rachel wasn't particularly strong and had difficulty controlling the heavy bat when swinging it around. There were some footsteps behind him and then a stifled scream. Kieron looked behind him and saw Isabel Callahan (Female #3) walk out the school, witness the fight between him and Rachel and then run round the back of the building, scared out of her wits.

"Why don't you just die?!" he heard his attacker shout at him, her very first words on the island. He turned back to see her about to slam the bat down on his head. Instinctively, he brought his bag up to block it, hearing something crack inside when the metal bat came down on it. The underside of the bag suddenly became soaking wet; at least one of the two bottles had to have ruptured and was now leaking water everywhere. He shoved Rachel out of the way as she was about to bring the bat up again. As she lost her balance, Kieron took his chance and took off down the path, Rachel chasing after him once she regained her composure. While she was persistent, she wasn't going to catch up to him. He had a head start over her and he was sprinting way too fast.

'_Sorry guys, looks like it's the mountain village after all…_' Kieron Bolt (Male #3) mentally apologized to his friends as he ran on, even though he knew they wouldn't hear it.

When Perry Carter (Male #4) walked out, planning to wait for the rest of his friends, the only thing he saw were the shadowy forms running down the path away from the school with the sound of crunching gravel.

"What the hell happened?" was all he could say.

* * *

"Male #5: Lee Dawford, it's your time to go," Taro announced. Compared to the majority of the students in the class who were dreading their time to depart, Lee actually looked raring to go, the Battle Royale fan yelling out confidently when he stood up.

"Yeah, watch the game master go!" he shouted out, running up and grabbing his bag straight from the soldier's hands and leaving the room, all in just a matter of seconds. "Male #5: Lee Dawford, remember that name and number! You're looking at the eventual winner of the 19th Battle Royale, yeah!" he yelled, his enthusiastic voice getting quieter as he ran down the corridor, obviously planning on playing the game to win. His eagerness to actively take part in the Program made the two instructors genuinely smile, but it just disturbed the rest of the people in the classroom. Darrell and Zach were especially turned off; both had wanted to team up with Lee, but they instantly ruled that idea out upon seeing his enthusiasm.

The next few students weren't as excited about heading out, especially having to depart after someone who would likely be playing. When it was Stuart Kitson's (Male #9) time to depart at 00:16, he just waited there, ignoring Taro and still holding onto Paula who held onto his chest tightly like he was a life preserver.

"Mr. Kitson, what do you think you're doing?" Taro asked, seeing the boy refusing to budge. "I called your name ten seconds ago." Stuart quickly looked up to the man, trying to find his voice to reply to him.

"C-can I stay behind for the sixty seconds? I want to leave here together with my girlfriend," he eventually asked, squeezing a little tighter around Paula, who squeezed back.

"While that is sweet of you, I'm afraid you can't do that, Mr. Kitson," Taro replied. "You leave when you are told to go, no exceptions. You've only got thirty-five seconds to leave the building before we exclude you." The soldiers shifted slightly and gripped their rifles tighter, getting ready to use them if needed. Paula squeaked quietly and flinched at their movements, but soon spoke up.

"T-then at least let me out a minute earlier," Paula demanded, knowing she would be called out one minute after Stuart, but still wanting to leave at the same time as him.

"I said no exceptions, now let go of your boyfriend, Miss Garrison, you don't want to be responsible for his death, do you?" The soldiers were now aiming their firearms at the pair of them. Paula slowly shook her head and grudgingly released her hold on her lover.

"Don't worry, I'll wait right outside for you, okay?" Stuart comforted her, brushing his palm over her jet black hair. "Nothing's going to happen to me, I promise." Kissing Paula one last time on the cheek, he went to the front to pick up his bag and leave the room. After what seemed like hours for Paula (in fact it was only twenty seconds), Hanako finally read out her name.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it? You just needed to be patient," the East Asian said as the girl picked up her bag and ran down the corridor to meet up with Stuart as quickly as possible. When Paula exited the building, she couldn't see Stuart anywhere. She had a horrible mental image of someone having waited by the entrance and sniping her boyfriend as soon as he'd left, dragging his dead body behind the bushes and patiently waiting for the next contestant to enter the competition so they could pick her off next.

Someone grabbed her shoulders while she was still thinking, making her scream and nearly bring her bag round to hit whoever it was.

"Paula! Paula, it's just me!" Stuart said loudly, trying to calm her down before she attempted to knock his head off. Paula just dropped the bag down, burst into tears and hugged him tightly.

"Oh God, Stuart, I'm so glad you're alright," she cried, shedding tears of relief onto Stuart's jersey. "I didn't want to leave you…"

"It's alright now, I'm here," he said, hugging her closely, then letting her go. "Come on, let's get out of here quickly, together." Holding their hands tightly, the pair of them left the area to find a safe spot on the island.

* * *

"Now, I don't know if he'll be able to hear me, but next to go is Male #11: Graham MacLeod," Taro said. He looked around, seeing the bespectacled boy sitting cross legged on the floor, not looking at him and dragging his finger along the floorboard. "Graham? Can you hear me?" Taro asked, grinning as if he was cracking a joke. "Oh no, you're deaf, so you can't. But try to hurry up anyway, you've got forty-five seconds to leave before we take you out the game."

"That's not fair!" Franklin shouted at him from behind the deaf boy, who continued looking at the floor, unaware the male behind was defending him. "You know he can't hear you!"

"Well you better let him know he's got to go, he's got forty seconds left now," he said. Franklin groaned and poked Graham's head to get his attention, and then pointed to the front when he looked to him. Graham looked confused at first, having lost track of who was leaving, but then he put two and two together and wasted no time in jumping up and collecting his duffel bag, running out the door with only one thing in mind; go to the mountain and find Tristan.

"Well, thank you, Mr. Sharpe, you just saved us from having to deal with two dead bodies in the room," Taro said, smiling to the horror movie fan as Graham's footsteps faded away. "However, was that the right decision for your sake?" Franklin and the others just looked at him, confused by what he was talking about. "I mean, you could have just left him be and then reduced the competition for yourself." Franklin didn't reply and just looked away from him. A few seconds passed in near silence, before Hanako spoke up.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Female #11: Fumiko Igarashi," the female teacher announced, smiling at the girl as she came to collect her bag. "It's not everyday we have the daughter of a previous Battle Royale winner, let's just hope Atsutomo Igarashi passed down his winning genes to you." Fumiko would have swung the bag round the woman's face, if not for the possibility of getting shot at by the soldiers or having a throwing knife imbedded in her forehead for it, so she did nothing and just ran out the room to find Bethany and Perry.

Fumiko's departure marked the halfway point, with twenty-two students either side of the classroom walls. With each passing minute, one more student was sent out into the battlefield. At 00:24, Richard Oakhurst (Male #13) brought a (very) few much needed laughs when he was preparing to leave. He didn't look where he was walking when claiming his bag, treading in Duncan's blood and slipping over, getting some on his pants and shirt where he fell onto the drying crimson pool. Victoria Norton (Female #15) was still bawling when she was called to leave and initially refused to go, staying put for almost the whole minute. It wasn't until a couple of warning shots were fired at her feet, making her scream hysterically, that she ran out the door, just mere seconds before Taro called Zachary Reilly (Male #16) to the front at precisely half past midnight.

"Holding her head up high, it's Female #16: Deborah Rainer," Hanako said, sixty seconds after the last games club member departed. The one remaining netball player strode up briskly to the front, snatching her bag from a soldier and turning to the teachers with fury in her emerald eyes.

"This is for Bruce Derby, you fucking murderers!" she shouted, sticking her middle finger up at the pair of them, turning round on her heel and running out the classroom. A minute later and Juan Rivera (Male #17) followed in Deborah's footsteps.

"And this one's for Duncan, you jackasses!" he yelled out when it was his turn to leave to group up with Kieron and David. He had considered spitting at the teachers' feet, maybe even in their faces, but it wouldn't do Duncan's memory any favors if he just got himself killed.

Allison Shepherd (Female #17), in contrast to the two previous students, didn't say a word to the two instructors, but instead burst into tears again when made to leave, clutching her bag tightly like it was the only thing keeping her safe. After she left, only ten living students remained in the room. Five boys and five girls.

Nicholas was sitting down at a desk in the middle of the room and was drumming his fingers on the wooden surface, with Imani and Leah standing together behind him, both their other cheerleading friends already gone. Francesca was sitting on the floor next to Nicholas with her back to the teachers, looking very pale and still sobbing quietly, while Arthur and Mark sat next to one another, both still covered in the now-dried spray of Duncan's blood. Ursula was also huddled on the floor, her knees up to her chest, looking up at the teachers and rocking back and forth slowly, while Yvonne stood to the side by the windows, deep in thought about meeting up with Isabel outside the school with Nicholas (although both didn't know about Rachel's fight with Kieron scaring Isabel off). Franklin knew he would be the next person out of the others remaining in the room to be let out.

"Next up is Male #18: Franklin Sharpe. Don't let the boogeyman grab you," Taro teased, Franklin grabbing his duffel bag and heading outside at a fast pace just to get the heck away from the pair of them as soon as possible.

'_This ain't like no horror movie, buddy, this is the real deal this time,_' Franklin mentally reminded himself as he ran down the corridor lined with armed soldiers. '_You're not the main character, you're just _a_ character, and you're not guaranteed to survive to the end._'

A minute after Franklin entered the game, Leah Smith (Female #18) was next to leave, hugging Imani and collecting her own bag, hoping to meet up with Mallory and Kirsty in the place they'd agreed upon, and in one piece as well.

The number in the classroom dropped to seven as Barry Sykes (Male #19) rushed out to try and meet up with Richard, taking with him the smell of stale urine, though it didn't compare to the foul metallic odor Duncan's prone body was creating. Ursula Steine (Female #19) stood up and departed a minute after he did without making a fuss, looking neither upset nor pleased to be leaving, she just looked neutral to it all.

Later on, at 00:38, the younger Turner brother had to leave the safety of the classroom. The youngest competitor in the entire game hugged tighter onto his brother and ran to get his kitbag. Yvonne looked to Mark, who just stared at the doorway leading to the way out, his blood speckled face looking solemn in watching his younger brother leave the room into a battlefield. For a moment it looked like he would break down and start crying. Yvonne exhaled deeply and looked at the two other females in the room. Young and Velasquez were both after Thompson in the alphabet, so she knew her name was going to be the next one called out.

"Raring to go, it's Female #20: Yvonne Thompson," Hanako announced. The tall brunette walked to the front, looking back to Nicholas who looked at her, giving her a weak smile. She gave him one back, one that was as fake you could possibly get. Picking up her bag, she left the four remaining students in the room, praying that Isabel would be waiting for her outside like she'd said she would. When she got outside, she pressed against the brick wall, hoping to stay out of sight. She looked across the gravel path and heard some rustling from the bushes opposite. She held her breath, hoping she had hidden herself enough in the shadows so he or she couldn't see her. As it turned out, finding her was the last thing on the person's mind, as several seconds later, Mark Turner (Male #21) hurried out the building. The person in the bushes immediately emerged from the bushes, Yvonne recognizing Arthur Turner (Male #20), the person who'd left just moments before she did. The two brothers met up and dashed down the path away from the school. When the coast was clear, Yvonne scurried away from the entrance to look for Isabel. She knew she was supposed to wait for Nicholas so they could join up and both search for her friend, but she didn't want to wait for him at all, she had her own agenda.

Nicholas Walsh was such a bad influence on Isabel.

She just couldn't get why her best friend didn't see it. Before she hooked up with him, Isabel was doing well in school, and didn't go out often, choosing to hang around with her friends instead. After Nicholas came along and dug his claws into her, her grades had started slipping, she went out practically every weekend with him, sometimes getting completely drunk (and in a couple of cases, arrested) and stopped hanging out with Yvonne and the rest of her friends. Nicholas had changed her, and Yvonne couldn't stand it. Then there was the dirty secret that Nicholas had, which Yvonne only just found out a couple of days ago.

Nicholas was seeing another girl, maybe even two, behind Isabel's back.

That made Yvonne even more furious. He'd corrupted her, and all along he never truly loved her. Isabel obviously didn't know about his liaisons, or else she'd have already dumped his cheating ass. She desperately wanted to tell her friend about his affairs, but the trouble was that she'd hardly ever got a chance to speak to Isabel alone: Nicholas was all over her almost all the time, and to be honest, he scared her. She didn't want to know what he would do to her if she came out with the accusations in front of him as well.

Well, right now, he wasn't with Isabel, he was still inside the classroom. Now was her perfect chance to tell her what Nicholas was really like. But first, Yvonne just had to find her.

That was easier said than done, she looked around the area for a good ten minutes, but without any luck whatsoever. No sign of Female #3 anywhere, and now she faced an extra two obstacles; Nicholas was out of the school, and with the current time being 00:49, the school was about to become a danger zone. Getting the torch and map out her bag, she stopped to check her position, finding the particular path she was standing on. She shivered slightly, both from the cool night breeze and the fact the boundary between F3 and G3 was just two yards to her right. Fortunately, the dirt path wouldn't lead her into the pending danger zone, so if she stuck to it, she had nothing to worry about.

Until the attack came.

Something swiped at the side of her legs, knocking her swiftly to the ground. She landed roughly on the hard dirt with a cry of pain as she was winded. She suddenly realized that she'd been knocked to her right, towards the boundary, possibly even over it. There was no beeping emanating from her collar however, so she knew she was still on the safe side of the imaginary line that meant the difference between life and death. Or it hadn't gone live yet. Either way, all she had to do was get back up and get aw-

A beige sneaker came crashing down on her right ankle, instantly putting paid to that idea. Yvonne screamed in agony as her ankle was put out of action, sprained or even worse, broken. There was another stomp with the shoe and her right wrist suffered the same fate. Yvonne cried loudly, the pain too much as she lay helpless, tears streaming down her face and unable to get up at all now. Then, someone put their arms around her body and gently lifted her up. At first, Yvonne thought it was Isabel helping her, having discovered her in trouble and then scared the attacker off.

When she was flung forwards though, from F3 into G3, she knew it wasn't her best friend. The beeping started as she crossed the invisible boundary, the sector having just turned into a danger zone. She moaned loudly as she landed in a heap in a clump of small dead bushes, her sprained and/or broken joints preventing her from getting back up, let alone getting out of the danger zone to safety. The electronic sound from her collar continued to get faster as the countdown ticked down towards zero. She sobbed louder, trying her hardest to get back up but there was to be no escape for her. Yvonne glanced one final time at her murderer, the light from the torch on the ground shining at their face and giving away their identity. A final look of shock registered on her face when she saw who it was.

Nicholas Walsh (Male #22) just about flinched and brought his arms up to protect his face when the collar around the girl's neck exploded, with much more force than the explosion that had killed Duncan. Hanako had been right about it being more powerful; when the smoke settled, the shoulders and upper chest of the recently slain corpse were charred black, and the head and neck were nowhere to be seen, either thrown clear or completely obliterated in the blast. Nicholas didn't care what happened to it, Yvonne Thompson (Female #20) was dead either way. He continued to stare at the body, the death of which he had caused with just his bare hands. He didn't feel sorry about killing his girlfriend's best friend, not in the slightest.

'_She was going to try and find Isabel by herself so she could turn her against me,_' he thought. He knew that Yvonne had learnt of his other lovers, and the problems she would cause with that knowledge. He wasn't going to let that bitch get between him and Isabel, no way. So he had to get rid of her. When he came out of the school, he searched for her, stalked her, waited for the zone to go danger. And then he eliminated her as soon as possible. Job done.

The sound of someone running brought him back to reality from his murderous thoughts. He turned around and saw his (officially, only) girlfriend, Isabel Callahan (Female #3) quickly approaching him.

"Oh my God, Nick, is that you?" she asked, out of breath. Nicholas thought he felt his blood run cold in his veins. Had she seen him kill Yvonne? Luckily for him, she appeared to have seen nothing.

"I-I'm sorry about not being where I said I would be," she apologized, pausing to catch her breath. "I saw Rachel attacking Kieron with a baseball bat so I had to hide from her, then I just heard some screaming then an explosion and so I came runni-- oh my God!" She put her hands up to her mouth when she saw the body lying there amongst the small shrubs. Though the girl's head was gone, Isabel could see the body wearing the remains of a white crop top and some camo-pants, which were last seen being worn by…

"Y-Yvonne?! W-what happened?!" she practically squeaked, fighting the growing urge to throw up. Yeah, she didn't see a thing.

"We were looking for you, when someone came and pushed her in the zone, and her collar detonated before she could escape," Nicholas lied, bowing his head. "I tried to stop him, but he was way too strong. I couldn't see their face, but it must have been Will or David."

"Oh God... Yvonne..." Isabel sobbed, grabbing hold of Nicholas and burying her face into his chest. "Why did she have to go so early?" she whined, her voice muffled by his checkered shirt.

"I'm sorry," he said, continuing the act. "I should have done more to try and save her."

"No... don't put yourself down like that, you did all you could," Isabel said, sniffling. "Why did this have to happen, why are we even here?" she cried. Nicholas smiled to himself when Isabel wasn't looking.

'_Damn, I ought to get an Oscar for this acting,_' he thought. '_Either that or this girl is fucking gullible._' He wiped the smile from his face when Isabel broke off from the hug and looked back to him. "Look, Isabel, we need to get out of here, that person might still be around," Nicholas said softly, glancing back at Yvonne's body. "And he may want to do the same to us as he did to Yvonne."

"You're right," Isabel said, wiping away her tears with the sleeve of her jacket. "I just... can't believe she's gone."

"I know," Nicholas said, sighing. "We can't do anything for her now, let's get out of here."

"Yeah..." Isabel said, casting one final look at what used to be her best friend and then trudged towards the main path. Nicholas looked to the ground and saw Yvonne's bag laying just by the boundary of the danger zone. Careful not to cross into the sector that had claimed the first official victim of the game, he unzipped it. Having a look inside, he took some time to transfer the dead girl's bread and water over to his bag, immediately doubling his rations for the three days. He pulled out something else as well, a whistle on a small silver chain: Yvonne's assigned 'weapon'.

"Well, neither of us will be needing this," Nicholas quietly said to the headless corpse with a smirk. "Too bad it wasn't a gun or anything useful," he added on, tossing the whistle away onto the dead girl's body and running to catch up with Isabel.

* * *

**End of Hour 1**

**Hours Remaining: 71  
****Students Eliminated in Hour 1: Female #20 – Yvonne Thompson  
Students Remaining: 43**

**

* * *

**

_A/N: I've got exams until the end of May, so there probably won't be another update until after then._

_I'm thinking about including a bit of miscellaneous trivia in these author's notes after each chapter. I'll do it for the first three hours and then depending on people's reaction it, it'll either be continued or not. Anyway, first tidbit: Atsutomo Igarashi was actually the main character in a Japanese Battle Royale fic I started writing some years back that ended up being completely scrapped before it even made the first chapter._


	7. Hour 2: Plots and Plans

**Hour 2: 01:00 – 01:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

* * *

_If you'd asked Victoria Norton the three things she loved the most when she was younger, she would have listed her mother, her father, and her country._

_At least until the military came into power. Then everything started to go downhill for her._

_There was to be a peaceful demonstration in Chicago about a couple of months after the coup, and Victoria had considered braving the freezing Illinois winter and taking part along with pro-democracy classmate Gregory Higgins._

'What could be wrong with going to a peaceful anti-government rally?_' she'd thought. Her parents forbade her from going, and when she watched the news that night, she was so very glad they did._

_She'd watched in horror as news footage showed armed officers and soldiers opening fire at the front line of demonstrators without any form of mercy. Victoria remembered shrieking and hastily switching the television off as the blood went flying, then going to the bathroom to empty her stomach of her evening meal. As much as she didn't want to believe it, the country she knew and loved had died._

_Then in May 2012, Shane Norton, her father, was executed._

_His crime had been 'participating in an illegal anti-government rally' (which actually _had_ become a crime by then, after numerous protests), when in reality he'd just been an innocent bystander walking home from work. He was at least fifteen meters _behind_ the police line, but that didn't stop them. One of the officers, on a power trip, turned around and saw Shane looking right at him, making eye contact. The officer immediately shot Shane in the leg and then battered him to death with his baton, even though he was already writhing on the ground in pain and crying out that he'd done nothing wrong._

_Nothing happened to the officer/thug for his killing of the innocent man, it never even went to court. Victoria couldn't think it could get any worse, but oh how wrong she was._

_The Battle Royale Program arrived on their shores that fall._

_The official reason for its implementation was to combat the 'growing crime rate amongst youths', but several people saw it as just a ploy to control the youths with an iron fist, preventing them from eventually bringing the government down._

_Victoria now hated the country that she loved just some years previously, and she had the feeling it hated her back. She'd had enough with the government, for corrupting the country, for causing the death of her dad and for its persecution of her generation. She desperately wanted out of the USA, and it saddened Harriet Norton to see her daughter like this. However, in the middle of May 2014, almost two years to the day since Shane's death, Victoria's mother had an announcement for her. She was being transferred to the European branch of her job, which was located in her birthplace of London._

_They would be moving to England in a month's time._

* * *

_June 12__th__ should have been the best day of Victoria's life. She and her mother had gone to the airport, suitcases in hand, to catch the scheduled flight from Chicago O'Hara to London Heathrow. Victoria was excited as she sat in the departure lounge, just waiting for them to start the boarding procedure. Soon she would be leaving the country behind and starting a new life in Britain with her mother, uncle, aunt, and cousins. No military dictatorship, no aggressive police, no Battle Royale..._

_Then a group of soldiers arrived. Victoria saw them, feeling a knot grow in her stomach, wondering why they were here. One of the airport staff walked up to the newcomers, being watched by nearly everyone in the lounge, even the younger children playing with their toys fell silent._

"_Excuse me, but you can't come though here-" She was roughly pushed aside by the leading man, nearly falling over a potted plant behind her. She protested at their actions, but then fell quiet when a gun was pointed at her. Victoria watched in horror, thinking they were going to shoot the woman._

"_No, you're not taking him!" another woman suddenly shouted from across the hall. She was holding what appeared to be her son, probably about the same age as Victoria, in her arms. Victoria guessed they were probably a family moving away before their child was selected for the Program. "We moved away to get away from that dreadful Program, and this evil government-"_

_The woman never got to finish what she said when the leading soldier opened fire on her. The other passengers immediately screamed and scrambled over each other for cover at the loud echoing gunshots. The boy leapt to the floor, his mother's chest exploding as each bullet hit, blood flying every which way. Victoria shrieked and ducked behind the chair she'd been sitting on, her mother lying right next to her, still holding her hand tightly._

'Oh my God, this was why I wanted to leave, to get away from all this!_' she thought, looking through the gaps underneath the seats and seeing the trembling boy lying on the floor, a few spots of crimson contrasting on his green T-shirt._

_Victoria was suddenly grabbed by her hair and yanked up. She cried out as the nerves in her scalp were set on fire, some strands of hair were even pulled out, and then she shrieked louder when she saw the murderous soldier looking at her, his face just inches from hers._

"_Victoria Norton, you're coming with us," he stated, his icy blue eyes boring into her soul. Victoria closed her eyes so as not to look at him and tried her hardest not to cry. She failed._

_She now knew that they hadn't come from the boy. They'd come for her._

"_No, she is not!" Victoria heard her mother shouting from behind her. "She's not Victoria Norton, you have the wrong girl," she said, Victoria suddenly feeling a strong sense of admiration for the woman, who was openly lying to these soldiers to protect her. The man didn't put the girl down, instead he just backslapped her mother with his free hand, sending her reeling down to the ground despite the fresh screams from Victoria._

"_As you just saw, we don't like people who disrespect the government," he spat, looking briefly to the dead woman who'd needlessly lost her life for her son. "And we don't like people who lie to us either!" Victoria knew with growing dread that they knew who she was all along. She gasped when he nodded to the other soldiers who immediately pointed their guns at her mother._

"_N-no, don't, please!" Victoria pleaded through tears, knowing what would follow. The man ignored her and gave the order to shoot. Five guns opened fire and the screams in the hall started up again._

_Within seconds, another mother had perished for protecting their child. And Victoria Norton had become an orphan._

_The next few minutes were all just a blur to her. All she remembered was being roughly grabbed and marched out of the airport by the soldiers, being thrown into a truck, and then waking up with the rest of her so-called former classmates. And at that point, she realized that the last thing she loved had been taken away from her by the government._

* * *

Victoria had been deep in her upsetting memories of her abduction when the explosion from near the school shook her up and brought her crashing back down to reality. Judging from the sounds of things, either a grenade had been set off or some unfortunate person's collar had done so instead. Whatever it was that blew up, it meant the game was already in full swing. The game that she thought she'd left behind.

"Why...?" she asked herself, feeling the tears still drip from her chin and onto her pale blue blouse. She was so close, so agonizingly close to leaving the country behind, it just wasn't fair. By all rights, she shouldn't even be here, in this godforsaken Program. She should have been in Britain by now, asleep in a bed at her uncle Joshua's house in Bromley. Instead, he'd be mourning the death of his sister, and most likely his niece as well. The odds of her winning were very low indeed.

'_The government must hate me after all…_'

She collapsed down by the side of the dirt path, wiping the tears for her mother away. From her location, she saw some faint lights shining from the main town through gaps in the tall pine trees, the light blurred and refracted by tears that refused to stop welling up.

'_Come on, stop crying, this is serious,_' she mentally ordered herself, hoping it would stem the flow of salty water running down her plump cheeks and would actually let her see properly. '_I've got to check the map to see where I am._'

Unzipping her bag to get the map out, she saw something else inside, something large and shiny that was reflecting the moonlight. She reached in the bag, grasping a large wooden handle that would not budge with just one hand lightly tugging on it, whatever was on the other end was that heavy. Yanking harder with both arms, she pulled out her weapon, and would have immediately dropped it, if not for the fact it would have chopped her foot in half if it fell.

She was holding a hatchet.

She gazed in awe at the large axe, and began wondering what sort of damage it could do. Severed limbs, decapitations, the blade would slice through flesh and bone with ease. It would have been the perfect weapon for someone to go on a killing spree.

Not for Victoria, it wasn't.

She would not be playing this game. Too much blood had been spilt before, both inside and out of the Program, and there was no way she would be contributing to it.

'_There has to be something else I can do,_' Victoria thought, carefully setting the hatchet down on the ground next to the path. Her mind began to operate, pushing her grief aside as she tried to come up with any sort of plan that didn't involve sitting by the path and waiting to die at the hands of her classmates. She looked at the hatchet, lying there like it had been discarded.

'_Discarded… that's it!_'

A gentle smile crept onto her lips as an idea formed inside her head.

The point of the game was to get people to play, having them turn against and kill their friends and classmates. That's what the people up top wanted to see happen. So, she thought of the biggest 'fuck you!' she could say back to the government while she still had the chance. Not only was she not going to play, she was going to royally screw with the game.

She had a weapon that could deal a lot of death and damage, and she was just going to throw it away so that neither she nor anyone else could use it again. The same fate would befall any weapon she found; it would be disposed of. Deprive the players of as many of their weapons as possible, and the game would hopefully slow down, maybe even grind to a halt. '_That'll give the government a reason to really hate me,_' she thought.

So, first things first, she'd have to get rid of her own weapon. To do that, she needed to find a place no one could retrieve it.

As she picked the map out of her bag and looked over it, she found three possible places where she could take it; either the school, now a danger zone; the waterfall, located in zone F7; or by throwing it into the sea from the cliffs to the south-east.

She instantly ruled out the first idea about ditching it at the school, due to that explosion coming from the area. There were possibly dangerous people still hanging around near there. She didn't want to risk wandering into a danger zone either. Having her head blown off was not what she wanted to achieve.

The waterfall wasn't a failsafe idea either. She had no idea if the river ther was a raging torrent or just a weak trickle. If it were the latter, there was a chance of someone coming across it and taking it for their own murderous uses.

That just left the cliffs, and she grinned. No one would likely see it from the top, let alone retrieve it, and definitely not without their collar blowing their necks to kingdom come. It was the perfect place! So, making her mind up to trek to the cliffs in zone J6, Victoria Norton (Female #15) packed the weapon away in her bag, threw it round her shoulder and followed the dirt path leading south.

All she had to do was pray that she didn't run into anyone.

* * *

Toni Mitchell (Female #13) looked up at the building standing before her, the torch in her hand partly illuminating its large off-white walls. She gulped nervously at the sight of the two stories of windows, almost all of them shattered, with some of the broken glass still sprinkled around on the ground where the girl was loitering at that very moment.

'_And this is supposed to be the main clinic of the island…_' Toni thought to herself, wondering if this was the state that it had been left in before the Program had arrived those couple of years ago. Judging from the bullet holes on the wall facing her, most likely not. She swore that there was also a large bloodstain near the empty doorframe where a couple of doors once were, although in the limited light her torch and the full moon provided, she couldn't be certain. '_Well that's i__ronic, this is the place you usually go to get healed, not get killed._' At this moment, she hoped that she was the only person in the vicinity of the clinic.

Actually, that was a lie. She'd hoped that no one else bar one person would be in the area, and that one person was her stepsister, Tamsin Forrest (Female #8). She had hoped that Tamsin would be waiting for her outside the school, but she'd already fled by the time Toni left, precisely ten minutes after her. She couldn't blame Tamsin if she needed to make a run for it, staying out in the open in a Battle Royale was basically a death wish, and as much as she hated to admit it, there were probably some dangerous people in their class.

Cautiously, Toni entered the main entrance to the former clinic, shining the torch around to look where she was going. She wouldn't want to be treated here. From what she could see, the place was a mess. The reception desk was completely trashed and chairs were strewn all over the room. Shining the torch around, getting good glimpses of cracks in the walls, spider webs and even more bullet holes, Toni began to wonder just what had been going on in this place the months before she got here. Just how many students lost their lives in this building? The mere thought of that sent shivers down her spine.

There was suddenly a gasp from an adjacent corridor, and Toni nearly jumped out of her skin.

'_Someone's here already!_' her mind screamed at her. '_And it sounded like a guy!_'

Hearing her heart beat faster in her chest (with the light on her collar flashing in time), she slowly approached the corridor where she heard the noise from. "Who's there?" she asked, expecting a response. She didn't anticipate an attack.

"You're not going to kill me!" the voice, definitely from a male, shouted back. A figure leapt at the girl, holding a large object in his hands, ready to bring it down on her head. Toni yelled out and instinctively stepped backwards to avoid the strike, shining the torch right into the person's face, momentarily blinding him and giving away his identity. Unable to see anything but white, the male missed his target completely and lost his balance. He collapsed on the floor with a heavy thud, the object sliding away from him on the tiled floor.

"Darrell, what the hell were you doing?!" Toni screamed. She wanted to run away from him, but her legs wouldn't move, feeling like they were paralyzed after the encounter.

One of the members of the school's games club, Darrell Fischer (Male #7), looked up at Toni and scampered away backwards on his hands and feet. "Agh! Toni, stay away from me!" he almost shrieked, huddled against the wall. It almost looked comical to see him squirming like that, had he not tried to knock her senseless just seconds before. "Please don't kill me!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on, who said I was going to kill you?" she said in an effort to calm the hysterical male down as her motivation to run away from him melted, even though she was still pissed. "But I would like to know what you were doing trying to hit me with a…" she trailed off as she searched the floor for the object he so nearly succeeded in knocking her out with. The light of her torch shone over a hefty book, revealing the words 'Merriam-Webster' written in gold on the front cover. "…with a dictionary?" she continued.

"I'm really sorry, I really did think you were going to eliminate me," he explained hurriedly, his voice still jumpy, but he seemed to be calming down a bit. If he could have seen Toni's face properly, he would have seen her eyebrows being raised in surprise.

"Look, I'm not playing, I'm not going to kill you," she said, trying to get through to the boy. "What are you, paranoid? Thinking everyone's out to get you?"

"Well that _is_ how a Battle Royale works! Everyone _is_ out to get you!" he retorted. "Show me your weapon. I just want to make sure you're not going to pull any stunts on me." Toni sighed and unzipped her khaki bag.

"I wasn't any luckier than you were on the weapons department," she replied, pulling her weapon out. Darrell flinched when she brought her hand out, but looked relieved and calmed down quite a bit when he saw what she'd been assigned. She was holding a pair of compact binoculars in her hand, another one of the 'joke' weapons, like his.

"Ouch, at least you can use them to good use," he said. "What can I do with a dictionary, apart from finding out what words mean?"

"I think you nearly demonstrated that on me!" Toni nearly yelled at him.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that…" Darrell apologized sheepishly. "So, why are you here?" he asked.

"I was hoping to find Tamsin, but I have no clue where she is," she replied, putting the binoculars back in her bag and sitting down next to the boy. "I'm surprised you didn't team up with the rest of the games club."

"There's no way I'm teaming up with Lee. You saw how he acted back in the classroom? He's definitely playing for sure, and I don't want to find out if he'd even kill his closest friends," Darrell explained, reaching over to pick the book up and hugged it against his chest. "As for Zach, I don't know where he went either. I just went my own way, he must've gone his. I only know that he wouldn't play though, he's not into the Program at all. Wish he was here though…"

"What are you going to do now?" Toni asked, resting her arms on her knees.

"I don't know," Darrell replied, resting his chin on the top edge of the heavy book. "But if you're going to look for Tamsin, I'd advise you to stay here for a bit."

"Why? Is she here?" Toni asked hopefully, but was greeted by a shake of the head instead. "Wait a minute, that doesn't make sense," she said, getting confused by his recommendation to stay put. "Why are you telling me to wait here to look for Tamsin then?"

"Look, just hear me out," Darrell said, putting his case forward and using his knowledge from several past Programs aired on TV. "Think about it for a moment, Toni. It's too dark to see much out there right now, and you'd be barely able to see five feet in front of you. You could be walking right into someone playing the game and you wouldn't see them coming until it's too late. How would being dead help you find Tamsin? Besides, about two thirds of all participants searching for friends or relatives end up dying in the first four hours without meeting up."

"Well, that does make some sense, I guess," Toni had to agree, although she was still reluctant to wait for dawn to break before searching for her stepsister.

"Just trust me, wait for it to get lighter and for it to calm down outsi-"

Darrell was prevented from finishing his sentence by a gunshot, sounding more like a pop than a loud bang as it echoed from some distance away. It was the first proper gunshot of the game, and it definitely wouldn't be the last. For a while, neither of the two students in the clinic corridor spoke, the only sound being their nervous breathing. Thankfully no more gunshots followed that one.

"If you want, I can help you with the search for your stepsister," Darrell suggested, breaking the deathly silence and grabbing Toni's attention. "It's safety in numbers."

"Would you really do that?" Toni asked, sounding happy for the first time since she stepped out of the school. She paused for a moment though and frowned "Wait a minute, there has to be an ulterior motive. What is it?"

"What is it with you and not trusting me?" Darrell asked, sounding as if he'd been accused for a crime he didn't commit.

"Hey, you tried to knock me out just a few minutes ago!" Toni countered. "So come on, what is it?" Darrell sighed loudly out of annoyance and looked back round to Toni, plucking up the courage to speak.

"I don't want to be on my own," he said. "I know it sounds stupid, but when I was cooped up here in the dark by myself for the past hour, I was scared out of my wits. I felt defenseless, and I was constantly worried that someone would come along to take me out. And now that you're here and I know you're not going to attack me, I feel… I dunno… secure now?" He leant his head back against the crumbling wall. Toni looked to him for a minute, then spoke.

"Is… is that all?" she asked.

"That's all. I'm not going to try and harm you again, stab you in the back, or do anything," Darrell said. "But if you really want to go and look for Tamsin right this second, even though you might get yourself killed, I'm not stopping you," Toni was silent for a while, obviously thinking hard about what she was going to do next. After mulling it over in her mind for a couple of minutes, she turned round to face Darrell, who was half expecting her to leave right at that moment.

"Alright, Darrell, tell me. What time does it start to get light?" Toni asked, much to the boy's surprise.

"I'd say around half past four," Darrell replied, grinning happily.

* * *

"Way to fuck things up, girl."

Deborah Rainer (Female #16) swore loudly, briskly walking out the front door of an abandoned house in the suburban area of the island, carrying her weapon in her hands and resuming her search. She would have looked imposing enough even without the Franchi SPAS 12 shotgun she was holding. 5'11" tall, with well-toned and tanned arms and legs from numerous netball games, piercing green eyes and a very competitive attitude, you wouldn't want to mess with her outside of the game, let alone inside it, especially with her luck of the draw as far as weapons were concerned.

So it was surprising to the soldiers monitoring the students to see her hiding in the deserted building for the last quarter of an hour.

The Program was making Deborah agitated and extremely tense. So tense, that twenty minutes ago when carrying the gun around for her own protection, she had accidentally pulled the trigger of the shotgun and sent a bullet through one of the few remaining unbroken windows, shattering it into hundreds of pieces and making it look like almost all the others along the street. Swiftly taking refuge in an abandoned house she had already checked, she waited out in case people had flocked to the source of the loud noise in search of a kill, but thankfully, nothing had happened. There were no retaliatory shots back, no screams or people running down the road. It seemed as though she had been the only one in the ghost town at the time. It was both a blessing and a curse. While she was alone and didn't think she'd have to worry about people taking potshots at her, it meant her friend wasn't around either. She could've been anywhere on the island, possibly even dying or already dead.

This started to piss her off. She had already lost a close friend to the game, and she didn't want to lose another. She felt the anger continue to rise in her body as she remembered Bruce and how the Program had taken him away from her.

'_Has it been five months already?_' she thought, feeling her breathing quicken as she struggled to stay calm. '_Five months since you assholes practically murdered him?!_'

To the thousands of viewers across the country who were watching the January 2014 Program, aka the 14th Battle Royale, Bruce Derby was nobody special. He was nothing more than just a name, a gender, and a number (Male #3) who was the 11th to die out of the class of thirty-six from North Carolina. To Deborah, he was much, much more. He was her long-distance boyfriend.

The two of them had been dating online for almost a year when he was cruelly snatched away by the soldiers and dumped on an island in the Florida Keys and left to fight it out in the ultimate game of survival. The day he perished in the Program, Deborah felt as though her heart had been ripped out of her chest and shoved into a blender. When it was all finished, she was heartbroken and she was furious. However, through counseling sessions and support groups for people who'd lost friends and family in the Program, she had been slowly getting over his death, hoping to move on in life. And then this had to happen.

If it wasn't for the collar round her neck preventing her from getting far into the danger zone around the school, she would have loved to march back into the building and pump lead into everyone that oversaw their killing spree. Sadly, that wasn't going to be happening anytime soon. Besides, she still had to find her friend, who was nowhere to be seen, and that just pissed Deborah off even further.

"Dammit, Jodie, why didn't you tell me where to find you?!" she cursed to no one in particular.

At least she thought she was cursing to no one.

There was the sound of a branch cracking in some overgrown hedges about twenty meters to her left. Deborah looked round to the source of the noise and aimed the shotgun at the bushes, thinking it could be someone with a deadly weapon, biding their time in their leafy hiding spot. She was fortunately wrong, as two people, one male and the other female, slowly stood up in the bushes with their arms up in the air, though the male held a knife in his right hand as a vain form of protection. Deborah saw their reactions and lowered her gun.

"You can put that knife away, Nick, I'm not going to shoot you," Deborah said, though her anger didn't make it sound all that convincing.

"How can we trust you?" Nicholas Walsh (Male #22) asked, still holding his jackknife even thought it was horribly mismatched against Deborah's weapon.

"Do you really think I would've let you live long enough to ask that question if I were playing?" Deborah answered, pointing her gun away from them with the barrel facing down to the ground. Nicholas lowered his hands and reluctantly flicked the blade of the jackknife back in, pocketing the weapon. "Why were you hiding in there?" Deborah asked.

"W-we heard a gunshot earlier and this was the nearest place we could hide," the female next to Nicholas stuttered. Isabel Callahan (Female #3), looked and sounded scared out of her mind and looked like she'd been crying her eyes out.

"What the hell happened to her?" Deborah asked her boyfriend, seeing the state she was in. Nicholas was about to answer but his girlfriend got in there first.

"Yvonne…" Isabel could only say her late best friend's name, but fell silent soon after, unable to finish what she started without threatening to burst into tears again. Deborah looked to the drama club student for an answer, expecting some very bad news.

"She was pushed into the school danger zone, and her collar exploded," he said. Deborah shuddered a little; people were indeed playing the game. At least two of her classmates were already confirmed as going home in body bags. She didn't want to think about things like that, she just wanted to think about finding Jodie.

"Listen, have either of you seen Jodie anywhere?" she asked, hoping that her team mate wasn't a third corpse already.

"No, I haven't come across anyone since leaving the school," Nicholas said. "Apart from that person who, you know…" he added on hastily, leaving out the details in case Isabel started up again.

"I saw Rachel attacking Kieron as soon as I stepped outside," Isabel simply said, looking down to the ground.

"Rachel? That doesn't sound like her at all," Deborah said, wondering what would cause her to play the game, unless Isabel was mistaken. She was about to ask about this (non-existent) person that Nicholas saw murdering Yvonne, but saw some movement in the corner of her eye. Turning her head to get a clearer view, she could see it was someone else further away. "Wait, who's that?" she asked, seeing the newcomer wandering in their direction from the south-western area of the town. "Hold on a second, I'm going to check this person out," she said, turning her back to the couple and approaching the lone student, gun at the ready in case they were a threat to them.

"You know, I think we should see if we can team up with Deborah," Nicholas stated to his girlfriend once the netball player was out of earshot. "I mean, look at her weapon, nobody would dare mess with us if she was around."

"A-are you sure that's a good idea?" Isabel asked, looking uncertain as she glanced at the back of the girl. "What if she turns against us?"

"I only have that jackknife, and your weapon was a pickaxe," Nicholas said. "While yours is somewhat decent, it doesn't even compare to what she has. And if she really was going to play, we'd both be dead already. I seriously doubt she's going to betray us, she just wants to find Jodie."

"That's true, I suppose," Isabel said. "Nick, you have a good judge of character. If you can trust her, so can I. We'll go with your idea." Nicholas smiled and looked away down the street.

'_Good judge of character, huh? Way better than yours then. Damn girl, you may be hot, but you are definitely lacking in the brain department,_' he thought. Isabel still hadn't cottoned on that Nicholas himself had been responsible for Yvonne's untimely departure, and he hoped it continued that way. He wanted someone who could help him kill off the others, and Isabel was the perfect candidate. But if she found out about Yvonne, she'd likely ditch him. Or even worse, kill him. That pickaxe in her bag could be a nasty weapon. However, his improvisation and acting skills were excellent when he was back in the drama club, and they were good enough to fool Isabel, although she would probably believe someone if they told her that her yearbook photo was found next to 'gullible' in a dictionary.

"Well that was crazy," Deborah said as she was returning to Nicholas and Isabel, bringing the male out of his thoughts. The person she'd seen had disappeared from view.

"Who was that?" Nicholas asked, sounding intrigued.

"It was Jonathan," she replied. "He looked like he was completely lost, and when he saw me coming towards him, he turned around and ran like his life depended on it."

"He probably thought his life _did_ depend on it, especially with you holding that gun," Nicholas remarked to which Deborah just shrugged. He was just about to ask her if he and Isabel could join her, but the netball player spoke first before he could even open his mouth. And he was pleasantly surprised by what she had to say.

"Alright, I'm going to continue looking for Jodie, you guys want to come along and help me?" she asked.

"Really?" Nicholas said, sounding genuinely pleased. "Do you really want us tagging along?"

"I don't mind it at all. I'm going to need all the help I can get anyway if I want to find her," Deborah said. "If you don't want to come though, that's fine."

"Well, I was going to ask if we could join you," Nicholas admitted. "But I guess I don't need to now, I already know your answer," he added on, making Deborah giggle slightly.

"I just know you two are going to be a big help," she said, grinning happily. "Okay, Jodie's waiting for us, let's go find her!" Turning around, she beckoned for the other two to follow her as she resumed the search for her friend. Nicholas was grinning confidently as he walked behind her, and Isabel was even managing to put on a weak smile for the first time since leaving the school as she held on tight to her boyfriend's torso. Things looked like they were going to go well, and Deborah felt with growing confidence that they _were_ going to find Jodie.

And for a split second, she swore she could feel Bruce smiling down on her from above.

* * *

**End of Hour 2**

**Hours Remaining: 70  
****Students Eliminated in Hour 2: None  
****Students Remaining: 43**

* * *

_A/N: I managed to get an update in earlier than I thought, hooray! I've only got one more exam to go (this Saturday, silly day for an exam, really), so updates should be more frequent once it's out of the way._

_And here's the second piece of trivia: Two people were originally going to die during Hour 2 in early drafts. Victoria was going to be one of them (lucky for her), and the other lucky student is going to be introduced next chapter. Who is it? You'll have to wait and see._

_Also, I've included a couple of maps of the island which can be found in my profile page. The bottom one will gradually be updated with things like danger zones and locations of eliminations as the game progresses._


	8. Hour 3: He's Alive!

**Hour 3: 02:00 – 02:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13th June 2014**

**

* * *

**

In the south-west part of the island, in the middle of zone C9 to be precise, a group of four students made their way out from the dense pine forest, the three females and one male crossing the grassland that stretched out towards the most southerly point of the island. The idea of having to kill their classmates just in order to go home and see their families again was still sinking into the group's minds. For Whitney Johannsen (Female #12) and Bethany Feldman (Female #7) however, they already knew they had no family to go home to. Whitney was as silent as a mouse, and hadn't said a word to them since the group of four had met up at the south-western fringes of the town almost two hours ago. In fact, she hadn't said a single word at all since Duncan Marshall (Student A) was killed back in the classroom.

The long trek along the dirt and bark chip path from the town had been mostly uneventful, although they had almost all jumped when they heard the single gunshot coming from the place they'd met up. Things had calmed down since then, and right now, they were nearing where they wanted to be.

"We're almost there, girls, our final destination," the lone male, Perry Carter (Male #4), said as he pointed ahead at the island's lighthouse, standing tall and imposing near the edge of some cliffs and silhouetted by the full moon hanging behind it in the night sky. Despite the island being completely deserted until each unlucky class of students were dropped off there, the lighthouse was still working, set to run automatically so as to stop ships from breaching themselves on the jagged rocks off the peninsular, even when nobody was there.

"About frickin' time," Fumiko Igarashi (Female #11) said, not bothering to hide the fact she was fed up with all the walking she'd done. All of them, except Whitney, who was silently looking down at the ground, looked up to the large windows at the top of the tower, watching the beams of light revolve clockwise and briefly illuminate the area where they stood, before moving on to shine elsewhere. The group moved closer to the tall building, avoiding the light so as to stay out of sight if anybody nearby was watching. After a short walk, they arrived at the entrance to the living quarters of the lighthouse, noticing the door had been completely torn from its hinges, and was nowhere to be seen, leaving behind a dark void of a doorway.

"Was… this always like this?" Bethany whispered to the others, wondering if someone else had beaten them here and was waiting inside the room, armed and ready to end their lives as soon as they stepped inside.

"I hope so, I never saw anyone in front of us at all," Fumiko replied. Perry picked up a stone from the ground and after signaling the others to stand back - Bethany pulling Whitney out of the way - he hurled it in inside, hearing a clang as it hit something metallic. That was the only sound; there were no gunshots, nobody trying to run out the place to attack them. The place did appear to be deserted.

Perry tentatively walked inside and shone his torch around, lighting up broken furnishings, shards of broken glass and even dried blood on the floorboards. Bethany shuddered as she followed him in, with Whitney behind her and Fumiko keeping watch for anything behind. Perry halted at another doorway missing its door across the room from the entrance, linking the living quarters to the tower of the lighthouse. Even though he'd checked the ground floor was empty, nobody knew if someone was occupying the top of the lighthouse instead.

"I'll go up, to see if anyone's already there," Perry suggested, pulling the dagger out of his pocket for some form of protection. "If I don't return in five minutes, get the heck out of here," The fourth male walked inside the cylindrical structure and started ascending the spiral staircase to the top room, leaving the three girls below him. Bethany turned to Whitney, who looked like she was staring into outer space at her feet. She was starting to get concerned with her friend's mental state and wanted to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible.

"Whitney, hey, Whitney, speak to me girl," Bethany said, lightly tapping the girl's cheek. Whitney didn't reply at first, but then she turned her head to face Bethany, although she seemed to be looking straight through her as if she was invisible. Then after a few seconds, she finally spoke.

"Duncan… I'm so sorry," she said, still looking through Bethany and starting to sniffle. It seemed as if she was talking to the dead boy himself, looking behind Bethany as if he was also in the same room as them and standing right behind the school's novice journalist.

"She's lost it…" Fumiko said, looking grave. "Beth, I really don't think we should take her up there with us." Bethany turned away from Whitney and glared at the other girl. If looks could kill, Fumiko would be included in the six o'clock announcement.

"Fumiko, we are not leaving her behind," she said, with a hint of anger in her voice.

"But-"

"She's our friend," Bethany interrupted, losing her temper with the girl. "You don't leave friends behind!" Fumiko could only look at Bethany, intimidated and unable to say anything, let alone counter her. A short while later, Perry called down from the top of the stairwell, thankfully breaking the deathly silence from underneath his feet. Bethany and Fumiko looked up to where his voice from coming from.

"Hey! It's all clear up here, you can come on up!" he shouted down to the three girls. Bethany took Whitney's hand and almost had to drag her up to the watch room, with Fumiko following them. When they reached the top, they saw Perry standing there and looking out one of the windows, watching the light pass by from the lamp right above.

"This is perfect, we can see for miles from up here," Fumiko remarked, looking around the room. There was a door opposite the staircase leading out to the balcony and a ladder against the wall which linked the lantern and watch rooms. She walked over and looked out the window next to Perry while Bethany went to sit Whitney down on the floor. Even though the sky was still pitch black, she could make out the small hills just ahead, and the slopes of Mt. Blair to the right of her view. She gasped suddenly when she heard someone's stomach rumbling unexpectedly, turning round to face the culprit, Bethany, who quietly apologized.

Having not eaten since the coach journey, nearly eighteen hours ago, Bethany sat down on the floor next to Whitney, unzipped her bag and reached in for one of the bread rolls. Instead of pulling out her sustenance that was supposed to last for the next few days, she pulled out one of two red boxing gloves tied together by a white cord.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me, this is what they gave me?" Bethany groaned, looking at her almost useless weapon in disgust and nearly forgetting about her hunger. Fumiko decided to follow Bethany's example and reached in for her weapon, finding a glass bottle in her duffel bag. While it wasn't exactly great, she could have got a lot worse. Perry already had his dagger resting in his pocket, having checked out his bag while waiting for the others to leave the school. That just left one person still in the dark about her weapon.

"Whitney, what did you get?" Perry asked, looking to the sitting girl, her bushy hair sagging down and hiding her face.

"I'm sorry…" she repeated to 'Duncan', not even attempting to open her bag. Bethany grumbled and shuffled over to find out herself, opening the bag up. Perry looked to Fumiko, confused as to why Whitney was acting that way. She responded by making a circular motion with her finger against her head.

If Bethany thought she had the worst weapon in the lighthouse, she was to be proven wrong; she pulled out a diver's fin out of Whitney's bag. Bethany looked at it in shock while Fumiko facepalmed.

'_What the hell? Two joke weapons, a small blade and something that can easily break. We're royally screwed, aren't we?_' she thought in disbelief. Ironically, Whitney seemed to be the least bothered about her weapon being a piece of scuba equipment.

"Well that's crap, they should have at least give you a pair," Perry joked, attempting to insert some humor into the dire situation, though it fell on deaf ears. Bethany dropped the flipper back into the bag and sighed loudly.

"So what do we do now?" she asked. For a while, nobody said anything. Then, Fumiko answered.

"We wait it out."

* * *

In a different part of the island, two of the other thirty-nine students, one male and one female, trekked along the path leading down to the southern, more rugged part of the isle. It was sparsely vegetated with some long grass, rocks and a few shrubs and trees spread around the place.

"How long until we get there, Kit?" Paula Garrison (Female #9) asked, using her boyfriend's nickname while walking behind him along the path that wound around the north-east slopes of the mountain.

"Hard to tell, I guess we'll probably reach the village in about an hour and a half," Stuart Kitson (Male #9) replied, looking at the map and turning round to face Paula. "How are you, sweet P?"

Paula giggled slightly at her own pet name. "You want to know the truth?"

"Hit me," Stuart said, raising his hands up just in case the black-haired girl really did hit him, her way of a joke.

"I'm scared, what are we going to do?" she asked. Stuart sighed and shook his head.

"Well, I had thought about finding Kieron," Stuart said.

"Kieron?" Paula asked, surprised at his choice of ally. "Wouldn't he be with David, Juan and Dun-" She stopped mid sentence, remembering the last person was lying dead in the school. "I don't know if we can trust them in this."

"Me and Kieron go a ways back, so I'm certain I can trust him," he said. "If we can't find them though, well, we'll just stay in the village anyway and see where we go from there," he admitted.

"Okay," Paula said, nodding her head. "Um, Stuart, can we stop here for a while? Nature's calling and I really need to answer it," she groaned, clutching her abdomen.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Stuart replied, looking around for a place for Paula to go discretely. "Go behind one of these bushes or rocks," he said, rummaging into his bag and pulling out his crowbar. "Take this with you, in case someone comes along."

"Hope I don't have to use it," she said, taking the metal bar off his hands. "I won't be long, hopefully," she said, giving Stuart a quick kiss and then walking off the trail to some nearby rocks and bushes.

As soon as Paula was out of sight and hearing range, Stuart ducked down and opened up her bag, reaching inside. "C'mon, you must've left it in here," he muttered under his breath, searching for her weapon. After meeting up outside the school and dashing from the grounds, the couple had immediately compared what they got. So he knew that Paula's weapon was perfect for what he had in mind at that very moment.

"Aha, gotcha," he whispered, pulling the Smith & Wesson M19 revolver out of her bag and looking over it. Guns weren't completely foreign to him and he had some basic knowledge of how they operated. Having an ex-cop for a dad worked out pretty handy after all.

He checked the chamber, seeing it was already loaded with six bullets, probably one of the very few generous acts by the people behind the Program. It was more than enough; he only needed the one bullet to get the job done. He turned back to where Paula had left for her toilet break and his heart seemed to sink down and bury itself into his guts as he thought about her. He would give anything for Paula to get out of this hell.

He would even kill himself.

Only one person could survive, he knew that. And that meant either him or Paula. Not both of them, just one. And if it had to be one of the two of them, it would have to be her, any day of the week. Taking the map and the pen that came with it, he scribbled down a note for her to read when she returned and discovered his dead body.

'_I'd most likely die on this island anyway, may as well get it over with now. Hope it doesn't hurt,_' he thought, putting the map down and picking the gun up, clicking the safety catch off and placing the barrel to his temple. He scrunched his eyes up, a lone tear falling down his face as he prepared to end his run in the game.

"Stuart?!"

His eyes snapped open and his face fell. Paula had returned to the path a lot sooner than he had anticipated, and was standing behind him. There was a loud clang as she dropped the crowbar out of shock. "Stuart, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Stuart turned around and faced Paula, who was looking completely shocked and outraged. He wanted to end it right there, pull the trigger, but for some reason his finger wouldn't obey his brain's commands. Probably didn't want to let him shoot himself in full view of her.

"I want you to win," he managed to say, although his voice was cracking from trying to fight back tears. "I know you can do it, but you can't do that if I'm still alive."

"What the-"

"I'll always love you, Sweet P. Just please, don't forget about me, don't forget about anyone from here," he said, letting it go and sending tears spilling down his face.

"S-so that's it, you're just going to give up?" Paula said loudly, sounding on the verge of screaming at him. "Why the hell are you doing this?!"

"Because if only one of us can win, then it may as well be you," Stuart replied, pressing the barrel of the gun harder against his temple. "I couldn't live with myself if I survived and you didn't."

"And what about me?" she retorted. "If you shoot yourself now, what's stopping me from taking that gun and shooting myself straight after you? Because, goddammit, if you kill yourself, that's what I'll do!"

Stuart looked hurt at her comment. "I-I'm doing this for you to go on and have a decent chance at winning, and you just want to throw it away!"

"You're the one throwing it all away with this stupid stunt!" she yelled. Completely losing it, she rushed at him. "Dammit, Kit, you can't do this!" she screamed at him, tears blurring her vision as she reached out to try and pull the gun out of his hand.

"Hey—Paula, get off me!" he shouted back, trying to move his head out of the way of his girlfriend's hands. She grabbed his fist and tried pulling at it.

"Kit! Don't do this!" she yelled hysterically, yanking harder and looking to be winning the deadly game of tug-of-war, slowly pulling the gun away from his head.

"Stop it!"

"NO!"

_CRACK!_

Time seemed to stop still as the gun went off with a sound like a clap of thunder. Stuart scrunched his eyes up as he felt some warm liquid splash over his face and acrid smoke waft up his nostrils.

'_Wow, so this is what being dead is like. That was a lot simpler than I expected, it didn't even hurt,_' he blissfully thought.

Then came the choking sound right opposite him.

Stuart slowly opened his eyes and his grateful expression changed to one of horror when he realized what had happened. He wasn't dead. He hadn't even shot himself.

Paula was staring at him, her eyes looking as wide as saucers. A slight trickle of blood was making its way from the corner of her lips, but that was followed by a waterfall of crimson when she gave a wet, raspy cough, spraying him with more of the red fluid. And glancing down from her face, Stuart saw what was causing it.

A small, neat bullet hole had appeared just above her left breast, which was turning her top from a light pink to a dark red as blood from the new wound began to saturate it. Her back was a different story, her top ripped apart to reveal the ugly CD-sized crater that used to be where her shoulder blade was positioned. Stuart finally realized what had happened.

Paula's tugging had pulled the gun so hard the barrel was facing towards her chest. And Stuart, finger already resting on the trigger, had pulled it out of reflex.

"Oh shi—PAULA!" Stuart screamed as his girlfriend's legs gave out and she collapsed down onto her side. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" he said, leaping forward to try and cushion her fall. Blood was flowing freely from her back wound and pooling around her body, and from the looks of things, she only had minutes left before she died from blood loss. '_What have I done? What have I fucking done?!_' he screamed in his head. '_This wasn't meant to happen! She was meant to live! What am I to do now?!_'

The gun was still in his hand, five bullets still in the chamber. Jerking his head as he started to sob uncontrollably, he placed it to his temple again, planning to bring his life to an end properly this time, like Paula had threatened to do if he died.

"K-Kit… D-d-don't…"

Stuart stopped and pulled the gun away at the sound of the voice. Looking down, he saw his girlfriend looking back up at him, trying hard to talk even though one of her lungs had been obliterated. Blood flowed from her mouth as she tried to speak each syllable.

"Sweet P…" Stuart said, resting the gun down by his side, blood still dripping from his face.

"G-go… y-you can w-w-win…" she said, as if it was her dying wish, clear as day that she didn't want him to end his life like that. Those were her last ever words, and with that her head slumped down onto the soil. The green light on her collar stopped blinking, extinguished forever.

"Paula..." he whimpered, embracing her still body and getting plenty of blood over his jacket. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the map, the one he'd written his suicide note on. It was splattered with some spots of blood, but the writing was still legible. Reaching over to pick it up, he went over his writing, and felt the tears welling back up.

_Paula  
If you are reading this, I willingly took my own life. This isn't because I have lost all hope, it's because I know only one of us can survive this. I want you to take the gun and go as far as possible in the game. I know you have what it takes to make it to the end. You won't have to worry about killing me anymore.  
Love you always, and looking down upon you,  
Stuart_

He couldn't kill himself, not now. He wouldn't be able to forgive Paula if she had, and he knew that wherever she was, she wouldn't forgive him either. She wanted him to go far in the competition, and he would respect her wishes. He would do what she should have been able to do, in her memory.

Bending down and giving Paula one final kiss on her forehead, Stuart packed his crowbar, map and her rations back into his bag and hefted it over his shoulder, breaking into a jog down the path in the direction he came from, abandoning any idea of meeting up with Kieron and the others. He gripped the gun in his hand, ready to use it if he was attacked by anyone.

Despite having thought no one was around, Stuart was mistaken. For when the coast was clear, Francesca Young (Female #22) stood up from the long grass, looking completely distressed.

* * *

Taro sat at a desk in one of the classrooms in the school, looking over some important paperwork and scribbling down some notes for the first announcement due at six o'clock. Even though the room he was in was called a classroom, it didn't remotely resemble one anymore.

Across the room from his desk, several soldiers and technicians were sitting at control panels and viewing numerous computer screens showing all kinds of data and live video footage from the hundreds of cameras on the island.

While they were all busy doing the technical stuff, he was alone in doing the admin stuff. Hanako wasn't even around, having already gone to bed so she could get some rest before the midday report, which was her responsibility. Taro still had another six hours to go before he could get some shut eye.

"Good morning, class 3-A, time to rise and shine, you've got a long day ahead of you," he quietly said to himself. "Yes, that sounds good, I can say that." Smiling, he wrote it down onto a piece of paper. He was thinking of what to continue that with, when he heard some loud cheering from opposite him. He already knew what had happened before one of the soldiers, Pvt. Oscar Henderson, came up to him to inform him, though he didn't know who would have bitten the dust.

"Female #9 has just been eliminated," he said, grinning. "And you're not going to believe who did it. Her _boyfriend_ killed her."

"Huh, that is surprising, I don't think we've seen that happen before in the last eighteen games," Taro said, adding Paula's name underneath the other two victims on his notepad, making a total so far of three.

"Yeah, though it was an accident," Henderson admitted. "We're just going over the tapes from the area, got ten minutes to pick out the juicy bits before we broadcast it to the public." Taro merely nodded, remembering the Program was broadcast with a ten minute delay, as it would be nearly impossible to catch every death as it happened if it was completely live. The technicians learnt that the hard way when three deaths went unaired during the first broadcasted game, the May 2013 Program, as they happened too quickly for the people backstage to divert the attention from other students onto the victims. "Nothing else seems to be developing, but we'll be keeping an eye out on Female #22's progress."

"You go and do that, I'm going to visit our guest," Taro said, putting the HB pencil down on the desk and standing up.

"Don't be gone too long, sir. We still need to decide on danger zones two, three and four," Henderson said, watching him walk to the door.

"I won't," Taro said, walking out and shutting the door behind him. He strolled down the corridor, past an open door that led to a room serving as a makeshift morgue. Two bodies were already on the tables in there; the body of Duncan Marshall (Student A) with the bloody hole blasted in his neck; and the headless corpse of Yvonne Thompson (Female #20), the latter recovered from the danger zone school grounds when there were no students nearby. By the end of the game, it was expected to be filled with dozens of other dead students. He shivered a little, but that was from the freezing cold air seeping out of the open doorway.

Reaching a locked door several meters down the corridor, he unlocked it and walked in, not bothering to shut it after him. The room was small, only around five by six meters, and divided in half by a wall of metal railing, most likely used to be a storeroom of some kind. Lying on a cot in the half opposite the door, cooped up like an animal, was a man in his late twenties wearing a torn and bloodied suit. To anyone else, he looked like just any normal person who'd been in a fight and lost badly. To the students outside fighting for their lives, he was more important; he was their teacher.

"Hello, Charlie," Taro said, smiling at the teacher, who was still living, despite what he had told the students.

He may have been alive, but Charlie Irving definitely wasn't well. He had a black eye, a split lip and a nose crusted with dried blood from where he'd been beat up by the soldiers after protesting his students' selection for the current Program.

"What do you want?" he said angrily, looking coldly at the East Asian with his one good eye. He moaned slightly and clutched his chest when trying to talk, having had a couple of ribs broken in addition to the injuries to his head.

"Just came in to inform you that another student has gone," he said. "Miss Garrison was the unfortunate victim this time round." If he had the strength and wasn't in pain, Mr. Irving would have leapt up at the bars.

"Are you going to tell me when each and every one of my students are killed?" Mr. Irving spoke, venom in his voice. No doubt he'd already heard about the first two fatalities from the instructor on the other side of the bars. Taro pondered for a little bit.

"I don't think that will be necessary anymore, you'll be able to hear the announcements we make from in here," he eventually said. "I'll leave you to it, since I'm very busy right now. So many potential deaths, so little time," he said, turning away towards the door.

"You bastard," Mr. Irving spat at him.

"Oh, by the way, don't think they're all fighting out there to see you again," Taro gloated, smirking at the injured teacher. "They think you're dead, we told them we killed you."

"What?!" This time Mr. Irving did leap up, but he instantly regretted it as pain shot through his chest again. "What did you do that for?!"

"To be honest, I thought you were dead at the time," Taro said. "Trust you to be as resilient as a cockroach and survive whatever the soldiers did to you." Mr. Irving just glared at him and collapsed back onto the cot, massaging his ribs and wincing slightly. "If you were out on the island yourself, you might just win."

"Shut up and get out," Mr. Irving growled.

"As you wish, I'm going now anyway," Taro said, opening the door. He turned back just before departing, and smiled at the teacher. "You should get some rest, Charlie, it's going to be a long day today." And he left, shutting and locking the door behind him, leaving Mr. Irving alone in the cramped cell of a room.

'_Three lives, gone just like that,_' he thought sadly. Three people with bright futures ahead of them (okay, maybe Duncan's wasn't as bright) and they had those futures taken away from them. And there would only be more deaths to come, one by one, and he'd have to listen to them all, powerless to prevent them.

At that point, Mr. Irving wished that the soldiers had just finished him off.

* * *

The girl sat on the rocks overlooking the valley ahead of her, listening to the rumbling of the waterfall several meters to her right. The full moon was still up in the sky, basking the trees and the river in the valley ahead in its soft light, and for a short while, Samantha Barker (Female #1) thought about how romantic the view was from where she sat.

Then reality came flooding back, as she remembered the reason why she was in this place to begin with, to kill the rest of her classmates. She sighed to herself, wondering what she had to have done to get into this horrendous predicament. There were at most forty-three other students out trying to murder each other (actually forty-one others now, but she didn't know that), and she was as much a target as all the others. The two gunshots within an hour of each other didn't make things any better for her, but she still tried to stay optimistic.

'_There're still people who won't fight, not even if their lives depended on it, right?_' she tried to reassure herself. '_Victoria and Greg wouldn't, neither would Zach._' She was so lost in thought about who would play and who would resist, and too busy listening to the water surging over the cliff, that she didn't hear the person approaching from along the path behind her.

"Holy—Sam? Is that you?" the boy asked. Samantha gasped in horror; someone had found her. She grabbed the handle of her weapon sticking out of her bag and whirled around to face the newcomer, in case it was someone who would attack her. Thankfully, it wasn't. Vance Petrovic (Male #15) was there instead, standing down the path from Samantha.

"Vance, w-what are you doing here?" she asked, still startled at being discovered like that.

"I was just trying to find a quiet spot to lie low for a bit," he replied. "I didn't expect you to be here at all." Samantha was actually quite surprised, but also kind of glad to see him. If she had to be in someone's company, it would have to be with Vance. Despite him being the real rebel of the class and usually keeping his distance from the rest of the class, he and Samantha seemed to be on relatively good terms with each other.

She noticed him cradling his left hand, and remembered that he'd shouted out at the teachers back in the classroom, paying for his outburst with it being stuck through with a knife. For almost all the class, an injury to the left hand wouldn't be that much of a hindrance. For Vance though, it was much more severe.

"That woman sure was a good aim with those knives," Samantha commented, looking down at the hand that was painted a maroon color with dried blood. From the looks of things, it may have already started getting infected. "She must've also known you were a leftie."

"Probably… fuckin' psychos, the pair of them," he said angrily. "So, what brings you out to this neck of the woods?" he asked, looking around the area. It looked quite nice for a battlefield; the fast flowing river to his right, a magnificent view straight ahead and plenty of pine trees and bushes to the left.

"You know, the usual, practicing my sprinting, trying hard not to get killed by Mallory and Will," Samantha replied, remembering the pair of them were often out to get her back home, and being here wasn't going to change that. "I didn't see Will on the coach though, I wonder how he ended up here."

"I honestly don't know, probably dragged here kicking and screaming," Vance replied. "Although possibly minus the kicking and screaming part, you saw how cocky he was in that classroom, you think he'd be playing?"

"It's not something I want to find out anytime soon," Samantha replied. "I want to keep my distance from him, and I guess everyone does as well."

"I can't really blame them," he agreed, nodding his head, walking over and sitting down on the rocks next to her. "So, what did you get for a weapon?" he asked, seeing the handle sticking out her bag.

"Me? I got a stupid plastic squeaky hammer. What did you get?" she replied, pulling the large toy out by the handle and showing him to prove she wasn't bluffing.

"I got, if you can believe it, a hairbrush," he said, pulling it out and pretending to comb his long black hair, although with some difficulty when holding it with his right hand.

"Geez, they sure love screwing us over." Samantha groaned, looking down and catching a glimpse of his damaged hand again, which now she was closer to it, looked a lot worse than she'd previously thought. "Vance, maybe we should head to that clinic to deal with your hand," she suggested, looking at the map to find a quick route to it.

"Oh no, I'm not going anywhere near that place. I was just outside that building probably a couple of hours ago, then I heard screaming from inside, so I hightailed it out of there," Vance said.

"Screaming?" Samantha asked, fearing the worst. "Do you know who it was?"

"I know it was one of the guys, but that's all. I wonder if he… you know…"

"I don't want to know," Samantha said bluntly, while Vance had a look at the watch the soldiers had put on his wrist, the hands and numbers glowing a luminous green in the near-darkness of the night.

"Well, everyone's going to know who's died in about, ooh, three hours and seventeen minutes."

"Ugh…" she groaned, closing her eyes. "You know, Vance, this whole thing sucks. It really sucks. We're all out here and we're… we're supposed to be killing each other. I-I can't do it! I won't do it! You hear me?!"

"Whoa, whoa, chillax, Sam," Vance said, looking at Samantha, wondering if she really was talking to him or actually broadcasting it to one of the many cameras/microphones around them. He was certain it was the latter.

"S-sorry, I just got worked up there for a second," Samantha said, feeling flustered at losing her cool like that. The game was getting to her.

Vance looked at his bloodied hand again and decided to try rinsing it in the river next to him. Sticking his hand into the water, he yelped loudly as it stung at first, the coldness stabbing into the wound and raw flesh, but the pain soon calmed down and it felt oddly refreshing after a minute or so.

"Hey, Sam, why don't you come on in, the water's lovely," Vance called over, chuckling and hoping joking around was going to take her mind off things.

"And end up tumbling over the falls? I think I'll pass, thanks," Samantha said, smiling.

It worked, and Vance grinned to himself as he kept his hand in the water. '_If only things could stay like this, just the pair of us messing about like this like we could back home,_' he thought.

Unfortunately, getting unwelcome company was inevitable in a Battle Royale. And it was going to happen to them sooner than they wished.

* * *

**End of Hour 3**

**Hours Remaining: 69  
Students Eliminated in Hour 3: Female #9 - Paula Garrison  
Students Remaining: 42**

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* * *

**

_A/N: The lucky student who was meant to die last hour was actually Stuart, but I made it an hour later and swapped things around; Paula was originally going to kill him, and he was to go the same way as she died this chapter. Third (and possibly final, unless you want more) bit of trivia: Whitney had the most changes to her surname from draft versions. It was originally Jay, then went through Jordin, Jaxson, Jarvis and then finally settled on Johannsen_


	9. Hour 4: What a Fall

**Hour 4: 03:00 – 03:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

* * *

"So where exactly are we heading?"

The owner of the voice was one of four girls, affectionately known as the 'earbleeders', who were making their way around the outskirts of the woods, trying to find a decent place to set up a camp. Leading the way like she would back in Pinefalls was Mallory Derwent (Female #4), followed closely by Imani Velasquez (Female #21), Leah Smith (Female #18) and Kirsty Nichols (Female #14), the latter of whom had made the announcement to the others.

"There's some kind of rural diner around here, and we're making our way in that direction," Mallory said, brushing aside a branch. "Going to hopefully set up camp there."

"But what if someone's there already, and they're, like, lying in wait?" Kirsty asked.

"Kirsty, how about shutting up for once? You've been asking all these questions since we met up and I'm _really_ getting fed up with it," Imani muttered loudly, much to Kirsty's outrage. She was about to answer back, but Mallory beat her to it.

"And I'm starting to get fed up with you lashing out at everyone," the head cheerleader said, turning around to face the two bickering girls. "Imani, cut Kirsty some slack, will you? This is a serious situation we're in and I don't want any arguments." It seemed to stop Imani's complaining in its tracks, but she just glared indignantly at Mallory.

"We should be okay, Kirsty," Leah said from the back of the line, Kirsty turning to face her and nearly swinging her blonde, pink and blue ponytail into Imani's face. "I mean, there haven't been any other gunshots since that one about half an hour ago, and it wasn't even in the direction we're going in."

"That's true, but still, doesn't it mean that at least one of the students could be playing?" Kirsty asked, while Imani just grumbled silently to herself, resisting the urge to tell her to shut up again. The last thing she wanted to do was piss Mallory off even further.

"That's something we'll have to find out in a few hours when they put the report up, isn't it?" Mallory replied, resuming the walk towards the diner with the other three following her. Of course, neither she nor the others were looking forward to the report at all.

Imani grunted a little bit out of annoyance behind Mallory. True, she was fed up with all the walking through the bushes and grass in the middle of the night, and with the girl behind her asking all sorts of questions, plus she was annoyed with getting on the head's bad side seconds ago.

But she was mainly pissed off because the weapon she'd been supplied with was a stuffed toy.

In her words, it was 'completely useless'. Leah had said it was cute, with little beady eyes and soft fur, but that wasn't good enough for the half-Spanish girl, especially if someone came charging in with a machine gun intent on putting them all out the competition.

Fortunatley for Imani, her companions had fared much better in the weapons department. Kirsty had received a Japanese katana and was holding it in her hand, planning on using it to swipe at any low-hanging branches and bushes that couldn't be pushed aside. Mallory found a total of three hand grenades at the bottom of her bag, and Leah had even managed to get a Glock 17 pistol. Imani didn't know what angered her more, her poor weapon or the other three lucking out like that.

"Hey, did you know the winner of last month's Battle Royale received a katana as his starting weapon?" Leah randomly said out of the blue.

"Uh, no, I don't really pay attention to the Program," Kirsty replied, looking at the blade in her hand, reflecting some of the moonlight that broke through the trees above.

"He was Felipe Romero, Male #16 from some high school in New Mexico, can't remember the name though, he won the May 2014 Program by eliminating five of-"

"Leah, this isn't helping us much," Mallory interrupted. Being reminded of someone who butchered five of his classmates was not good for morale in the group.

"Yeah, so shut up!" Imani said loudly, not able to contain herself this time.

"Imani!" Mallory yelled at her. "Did I ask for your opinion?"

"Well she shouldn't act like a retard," the half-Spaniard replied.

"AS doesn't make me a retard!" Leah retorted.

"Will you all just be quiet!" Kirsty hissed loudly, instantly silencing the three others. "All your shouting's probably attracted everyone near here. And I don't know about you, but I don't want to have someone come along after hearing your arguing and kill us all." For a while after Kirsty's outburst, the four of them were totally silent, the crickets and bugs hiding in the grass and trees being the only source of noise in the area. Then, Leah noticed something and she smiled.

"Hey, is that the diner there?" Leah asked, pointing to a building just about visible through the dense foliage. The three others turned to where she was pointing.

"You know what, I think she's right," Mallory remarked, breaking into a sprint towards the structure, the three others following closely behind her. The trees and other thick vegetation ended and they entered a small clearing surrounding the diner. Like pretty much all the other buildings on Dante's Island, it had fallen into disrepair from being abandoned. Being out of the way though, it didn't look as bad as any of the others. Most of the windows were still intact, several slate tiles were still on the roof, and even the door was still on its hinges. It just looked like a cottage in the middle of the wilderness, not the middle of a battlefield.

"I found it, I found it," Leah giggled, pleased with herself and doing a brief victory dance, Imani refraining from slapping her round the head for acting immature.

"Uh, Leah, you can calm down now," Kirsty said.

"Kirsty, Leah, we're going in there to see what we can find," Mallory said, taking a grenade from her bag in case there was someone in the diner that would attack them. Imani picked up a broken branch from the ground, which wasn't the best but was still miles better than the plush toy she had. "You stay there and keep an eye out for anyone. Use your weapons if you really have to." Saying that, she and Imani disappeared into the building, shining their torches around to get a good look around the premises. Leah and Kirsty sat down on the ground and immediately regretted it, the grass they sat on was very damp with early morning dew. Kirsty stood up again and stuck the katana into the ground, tired of holding it, and tried the wipe the water off the back of her denim shorts. Leah just continued to sit and cradled the Glock 17 in her hands, finger resting idly over the trigger guard and looking round for potential threats like instructed.

But hiding out of their sight in the shadows of the trees, having followed the group from the moment they ganged up, Corey O'Donoghue (Male #14) crouched behind some bushes, watching the girls and biding his time.

Waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

* * *

Francesca Young (Female #22) was scared out of her mind.

Well, whatever little remained of it. She was cracking up much like the old oil paintings she'd grown to admire.

Back in the classroom and almost three quarters through the first hour of the game, she had been the very last of the forty-four students to leave. The time between Nicholas Walsh (Male #22) leaving and her own time to depart had been probably the most awful minute in her entire seventeen years of existence. There she was, no one to support her, with Taro, Hanako, seven soldiers, and the dead body of one of her classmates lying on the floor. Worst of all, Taro had decided to bring her dead parents back into the equation. That, combined with the horrendous stench from Duncan Marshall's (Student A) corpse that had built up over the three quarters of the hour had caused her to violently throw up.

She had been somewhat glad when Hanako announced her name and she could finally leave the building and get into some fresh, clean air. But the harsh reality of the Battle Royale hit home at full force just minutes after stepping out, when she heard someone screaming followed by a loud explosion not too far from the school. That caused her to run further away from the building in fear for her life.

She'd spent the next couple of hours scurrying about, being spooked by even the most negligible of things. A shadow cast on the ground here, a rustle in the bushes there, it was all taking its toll on the girl's mind. She was becoming paranoid and was imagining everyone else out to get her, lurking just around the corner or in the bushes with their weapons drawn.

Then she'd heard a couple of voices and ducked into the long grass by the path, hoping to stay out of their sight, whoever the two students were. Turned out she'd stumbled across Stuart Kitson (Male #9) and Paula Garrison (Female #9) as they walked along the path, making their way towards the village on the mountain. She observed them, seeing Paula leave the path, then was horrified to see that Stuart was planning on shooting himself. Before he was able to pull it off, Paula had returned and Francesca had been given front row seats for the gruesome events that followed.

The pair got into a scuffle, and the gun went off, the bullet punching through Paula's torso like she was just a mattress, and then speeding right over Francesca's own head. Had the bullet's trajectory been lower, Francesca would have been lying dead in the grass with a bullet hole between the eyes. But she was still alive and unhurt, which was more than what could be said for Paula. For the next few minutes, she was too paralyzed with shock to scream, let alone jump up and run away from the grizzly scene. It was only when Stuart ran off that she found herself able to stand up again. It was the straw that broke the camel's back though. Viewing Paula's death had been enough to finally unhinge the girl.

And so, leaving her bag (and her sanity) behind in the long grass, she just ran for all she was worth, not even caring to look at the map to check where she was going.

She'd passed through the village just quarter of an hour ago and she was sprinting along the path running alongside the river that lead to the waterfall. She ground to a halt, hearing something other than the water splashing to her right. She could hear more voices up ahead.

'_More people out to kill me!_' she thought, paranoid once again. '_I won't let them do that!_' She dug her hand into a pocket in her red jacket, and wrapped her fingers around her weapon. Tightly clutching the 5kg weight that she had been assigned, she ran towards the waterfall where the voices were coming from.

* * *

"Hey, can you hear something?" Samantha Barker (Female #1) asked, looking around. She swore she heard some footsteps or some rustling from somewhere close to her.

"Nope, can't hear anything, you must be imagining things," Vance Petrovic (Male #15) said, examining his hand down by the flowing river, crouched down just yards from where the water tumbled over the cliff. The dried blood from before had been washed off, but fresh blood was still spilling out, albeit at a slower rate than before. He held the hand out in front of the setting moon and thought he could see some light shining through the cut the knife had made.

"Maybe, must've just been from the waterf-"

The loud shrieking that rang out just then was unmistakable, and definitely didn't come from the waterfall. Vance was so startled by the screaming he nearly slipped into the river, which would have dragged him over the edge and most likely to his death. Samantha whirled round on the rock she sat on and saw the last person she expected running towards them. "F-Francesca, was that yo--oh shit!"

Francesca Young (Female #22) screamed again and took a running leap at Samantha, shoving her hard in the stomach and knocking her down onto the dirt floor.

"What the f-" Vance exclaimed, watching the scene play out in front of him as he scrambled to his feet. Francesca was lying right on top of Samantha, and it would have probably turned on almost every male in the class, apart from the little fact that they weren't making out and one was trying to kill the other.

Francesca brought her hand up, clutching the weight tightly within it, and slammed it down, Samantha just moving her head out of the way as the artist's fist impacted the dirt. The second punch skirted the side of her neck, but the third hit Samantha square in the forehead.

The extra weight in her hand made the strike hurt a lot more than it normally would. And then Samantha felt something warm trickling along her skin. '_I'm bleeding! It's actually made me bleed! What the hell is in her hand?!_' She was lucky that Francesca wasn't very strong at all. Had it been someone like David or Kieron attacking her, that single strike could have very well killed her.

Vance ran over to try and shove Francesca off the other girl, but the attacker's arms were swinging wildly and her balled-up hand made contact with his jaw before he got a chance to wade in. He stumbled backwards, clutching his jaw and feeling one of his lower molars come loose.

Samantha put her arms behind her in a vain attempt to crawl away backwards, but Francesca was too heavy on her and she wasn't going to let her get away. Samantha's hand brushed against the handle sticking out of her bag behind her, and looking up, she saw Francesca bring her hand up again, the 5kg lead weight in her hand ready to come down and cave her nose in.

Before she knew it, Samantha gripped the handle and swung the plastic hammer right into the side of the head of the artist-turned-headcase.

The plastic head smacked Francesca with a comical squeaking noise, but even though it wouldn't have hurt her, she was momentarily stunned and dropped her weapon onto Samantha's chest. It was enough time for Samantha to push her off her body and get up, holding the large toy out in front in case she attacked her again.

The attack never came for her, as Francesca got back to her feet and instead turned to Vance, who was still slightly dazed and too preoccupied with his jaw to notice her looking at him. She darted forwards, arms out to push him into the river behind him. To push him to his death.

"Vance, look out!" Samantha screamed. He heard the warning from his friend and turned around just as Francesca was a mere few feet away and closing in fast. He yelled out and ducked down, unable to move to the side in time.

Francesca was unable to stop in time either, and she tripped right over the rebel, her knee connecting with his right eye socket as she flew over his head. She performed an almost perfect somersault and landed in the river with a large splash. Vance and Samantha could only watch as the girl, who'd moments ago had just tried to kill them, tried getting to her feet and climb out of the knee-high water. The rocks were too slippery however and the current was too strong, so she just ended up falling back down again. She was also being dragged closer and closer towards the edge, and her attempts to get out grew more frantic. It wasn't working, and to the other two students' astonishment, she just appeared to give up. She managed to turn around, her watery blue eyes looking straight at them, and for a brief second, the pair thought she may have even been crying.

Then she was gone.

* * *

Francesca thought she was drowning as gallons of water plummeted down all around her. There was nothing but darkness beneath her, and it felt like she had been falling for an eternity. She'd lost her mind, and knowing she was going to die seemed to have brought it back, but too late to save her. She closed her eyes, and thought. She thought of her classmates, her friends, her deceased family, her pet cats.

'_Mom, dad, I'm going to see you all earlier than I reckoned,_' she thought.

And when she slammed into the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall, all of her thoughts came to an end.

* * *

"Holy shit…" Vance gasped, edging towards the cliff and trying to look for the girl amongst the water, froth and spray with his one good eye. Samantha joined him by the edge and looked hard as well.

"C-could she still be alive?" she asked, knowing full well it was almost impossible to survive that. The odds of that were just too slim. Although the odds of them being in the Program was just as small and they were still in it.

She got her question answered when something limp appeared out of the crashing water, being tossed, turned and dragged under by the undertow like it was a giant cork. There was no doubt about it, she hadn't survived the fall.

"Hey, are you okay?" Vance asked, looking at the athlete and gently rubbing his eye. She didn't reply, watching what used to be Francesca Young (Female #22) being thrashed about by the frothing waters. After just a couple of seconds, the girl's body escaped from the strong currents and began to slowly drift down the river, away from them. "Samantha!" he repeated louder.

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I think," she said, pushing her left hand on her bleeding forehead. The weight appeared to have just broken the skin, no sign of a fracture or anything else major beneath the wound, although it did leave her with a nasty headache.

But something was bothering her. The plastic hammer was still in her right hand, and she wondered if she only swung it at Francesca because she knew it wouldn't harm her.

'_Would I have still used my weapon if it could have killed her?_' she thought. And as a knot formed in her stomach, she realized she probably would have done.

* * *

"Stop saying that Debs was trying to shoot you," a male voice said from the trees in the north-west part of Dante's Island. "It's getting annoying."

"But she had a gun with her," the person with him argued, his voice also male. "I thought she was going to shoot me as soon as she saw me." The first voice belonged to Franklin Sharpe (Male #18) and the second one to Jonathan Newman (Male #12), both boys trekking around the northern outskirts of the forest

"If she really wanted to shoot you, you wouldn't be here with me right now," Franklin said. "Have you seen her out the basketball court? Her aim is awesome, she wouldn't be able to miss you."

"You can stop fantasizing about her now," Jonathan muttered. "You're sounding like you have a crush on her or something." Franklin just chose to ignore Jonathan's remark, looking at the map. "Are you sure we're going in the right direction," Jonathan said, changing the subject away from Deborah. "I think we passed this tree five minutes ago,"

"I'm sure," Franklin replied, glancing down at his map. "I know where we are, that outdoors course I took really came in handy." He used the torch to get a good glimpse on their current location (near the middle of zone D3). Jonathan just sighed and looked at the side of Franklin's map from over his shoulder, glancing down the lists of students.

Before the game had started, there had been multiple copies of the map, each one with a different male student omitted, as the higher-ups in charge of assembling the kit for the students hadn't known at the time that Duncan would be the one to bite the dust pre-game. Once the gang member's death was confirmed, the soldiers hurried to put the maps that skipped from MacLeod to Newman into the bags in time for the game to start. However, due to human error, one of the other alternate maps got mixed up in the pile and was put into one of the bags instead of the right map. Said bag would eventually go to Franklin, so imagine his companion's shock when, according to the student list, Duncan Marshall was Male #12 and he himself was left off.

"I still don't know why you kept this map," Jonathan stated. "It says I was killed, it's a bad omen."

"Will you give it a rest with that superstition crap?" Franklin moaned. He was beginning to wonder why he had stopped to help Jonathan when he came across him. '_It's because you're too helpful for your own good_,' he could imagine Taro saying to him.

"You do know what the date is today, though?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, it's Friday 13th, when Jason Voorhees comes out to play," Franklin grumbled. He admitted that he was a real horror movie fanatic, loving franchises such as _Saw_, _Final Destination_ and _Scream_. Of course, everything was all fictional in these movies, no one was really doing the killing or being killed in them, and the people like Freddy Krueger, Jigsaw and Michael Myers didn't really exist. He could safely say he was used to death on screen. In real life, though, that was a whole different kettle of fish.

"So, the time is now 3:43 in the morning, that's twenty hours and seventeen minutes until the day ends, or 1,217 minutes."

Franklin looked round and saw Jonathan tapping away at a calculator, the one he'd received in his bag as a 'weapon'. He sighed, remembering he'd fared only slightly better himself, getting a wooden mallet. Both of them were terrible weapons, especially Jonathan's.

'_What am I supposed to do with this thing, try and whack it round someone's head?_' Franklin thought. '_This is only fit for pitching a tent. At least it's not made of something stupid like plastic._' (Good job Samantha wasn't able to read his thoughts just then). He looked back round to his so-called partner, who he'd found wandering about aimlessly just over an hour ago.

While Jonathan was known to be heavily superstitious, he was also known to be excellent at math, chess and, much to quite a few people's surprise, he wasn't too bad at sports either. However, the subject that was his Achilles' heel was geography, and he couldn't read a map to (in this case, quite literally) save his life. On his own, he'd somehow managed to go round in a full circle and walk back into town, coming face to face with Deborah Rainer (Female #16). Even though she wasn't even threatening him, the sight of the firearm in her hands was enough for the boy to turn tail and run back from where he came, get completely lost again and then eventually bump into Franklin. After explaining his plight, Franklin had agreed to work together with Jonathan and the pair had stayed with each other since joining up.

"We should take a break, we've been walking non-stop for ages and it's starting to get steep up this hill," Franklin announced as he sat down by the rocky path, folding the map up and putting it away in his bag and taking one of the bread rolls out. He took one bite out of it and was half tempted to spit it back out, if not for the fact it would be his only sustenance on the island. "What the hell did they put in here, plaster?" he complained, chewing the stiff bread and feeling like he was going to gag. It was like chewing on drywall in both texture and taste. Not that he knew what chewing drywall was like.

"What did you expect them to give us?" Jonathan said, standing over the other boy. "We're almost all expected to die on this island, you think they're going to waste champagne and caviar on us?"

"I guess not..." Franklin said, eating half of his stale roll and putting the rest back in the duffel bag for later. "Although giving us alcohol and letting us run amok with weapons sounds hilarious in their books… crap, I probably just gave them an idea." He pulled the map back out and was just about to read it again, when he fumbled the torch and dropped it. "Shit," he exclaimed, reaching down to pick it up

"Wait, don't touch it!" Jonathan practically hissed at him, which startled Franklin. "Look," he said, pointing to where the flashlight was shining. It had landed so the beam of light was shining into a nearby bush across the path from them. Something gold was reflecting the light back at the two contestants.

"Is that one of the boxes that chick in the video was going on about?" Franklin asked himself, picking the torch up but keeping it focused on the bush as they approached it. Jonathan reached into the bush, pulling out a gold-painted box with the red question mark on all six sides, confirming Franklin's suspicions.

"Well what are we waiting for? Let's open it," Jonathan said, pulling the lid off, Franklin shining the torch inside.

A gun was lying at the bottom of the container, along with some boxes of ammo, a piece of paper and some kind of booklet, an instruction manual for the firearm. Jonathan put his hand in and pulled the small note out, Franklin guiding the flashlight beam onto the words so he could read it.

"_Congratulations on finding one of the Golden Boxes. You have found a SIG-Sauer P226 along with ten rounds of ammunition and a user manual on how to work it, aren't you lucky?_" he read out loud. "Oh _wow!_"

Franklin and Jonathan both smiled. They'd finally found a decent weapon.

Maybe today wasn't so unlucky after all.

* * *

**End of Hour 4**

**Hours Remaining: 68  
Students Eliminated in Hour 4: Female #22 - Francesca Young  
Students Remaining: 41**

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* * *

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_A/N: Wow, I got this chapter up a lot, LOT quicker than I thought I would! And I'm sorry that all three deaths so far have all been girls, it won't be the case throughout the story._**  
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	10. Hour 5: Unwelcome Visitors

**Hour 5: 04:00 – 04:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

**

* * *

**

Blair Village, located near and named after the summit of Mt. Blair, the highest peak on Dante's Island, was used to being sparsely populated. Before the Program arrived two years ago, the seven log cabins that made up the village were home to only thirteen people, all of them forced to evacuate or face a firing squad if they refused. As the fifth hour in the 19th Battle Royale began, it was now a safe haven to three people, all taking cover in just one building.

David Lessing (Male #10) looked across the room from the top bunk. There wasn't much to the cabin, it just consisted of two rooms: a small bathroom and the larger room that he and the others were residing in, which appeared to serve as a bedroom, kitchen and living room all rolled into one. '_Talk about basic,_' David thought.

Kieron Bolt (Male #3) was sitting at the table near the kitchen part of the room, looking at the map laid out in front of him. Two and a half soggy bread rolls and one bottle of water were also on the table, as well as his weapon, or what was left of it. A decorative wooden boomerang, snapped into two jagged pieces where Rachel's aluminum bat had smashed into his bag. The duffel bag itself was lying in the corner by the stove, damp and discarded along with a split plastic bottle, another casualty of Rachel's surprise attack. Ironically, being broken had made Kieron's weapon more useful in his eyes. Instead of a mostly useless throwing weapon, he now had two makeshift daggers.

David's eyes moved away from Kieron and locked onto a red light on the wall opposite the front door, no doubt one of the cameras watching them and broadcasting their every move to the soldiers in the school building. David wanted more than anything to grab his hand axe from next to him on the bed, rip the camera out of the wall and hack it to pieces, but resisted the violent impulse. He knew he risked getting his neck blown to bits if he tried.

Just like Duncan's.

"Those bastards," David said angrily to himself, remembering his fallen friend. He'd been forced to punch him in the face, and looking back, he regretted it, even if it was to save Juan from being caught in the blast from his collar. He really wanted Duncan to be here with them, but when he thought about it more, the redhead was the luckiest of them all. He was already dead, and wouldn't have to go through this hell. David continued to glare at the camera, hoping it could self-destruct just by him looking at it. No such luck.

"Hey, there's someone outside!" the third and final remaining member of the gang, Juan Rivera (Male #17) hissed, the Latino photographer looking out of the window. With a .44 Auto Mag pistol tucked down his jeans, he had volunteered to act as lookout in case anyone came through the village, and if they were a threat, he was armed and ready to deal with them.

David sat up, no longer interested in the wall mounted camera and was ready to jump down from the top bunk, while Kieron grabbed the two separate parts of the boomerang off the table, got up from his chair and walked briskly to see who it was, the loose wooden floorboards thumping underneath his feet. David wanted to scold him for being so loud. The last thing he wanted was someone hearing them and attacking.

"Who is it, are they heading towards here?" Kieron whispered, looking out the window himself and seeing the shadowy figure wandering aimlessly through the village, not seeming to be heading in any specific direction, let alone towards their hideout. Medium built, longish hair of an uncertain color in the moonlight. As the figure turned their head round in a different direction, the dim light reflected off a pair of frameless glasses. Only four students in their class needed to wear glasses, and only one of those had hair of that length.

"It looks like Graham," Juan said, his hand resting over the pistol's handle while watching the deaf boy stand still in the middle of the road and check his watch, completely unaware he was being watched by two of his classmates.

"What's he doing out there?" David asked from behind them.

"No idea, he might be waiting for something," Kieron said, tightly gripping the sharp wooden weapon in his hand in case the deaf boy got too close for comfort. Graham looked back up from the map and glanced around, and for a second, Kieron could've sworn he glanced right at them in the cabin. He instinctively covered up the light flashing on the front of his collar, in case Graham could see it.

"Or someone," Juan muttered, Kieron and David looking to him. "You saw Tristan doing those hand signal things just before he left, maybe they were planning to meet up or something." Kieron nodded. Everyone had been watching Tristan Armstrong (Male #1) as he prepared to leave, so they'd all seen the hand signal, obviously intended for Graham, though no one actually knew what he'd said to him.

Graham didn't stick around for long, checking the map and heading to the north, towards the summit and out of sight of the two gang members, who turned away from the window.

"Is he gone?" David asked, jumping down from the bunk.

"Yeah, he's gone," Juan confirmed, sighing and leaning against the small chest of drawers below the window.

"We need to do something," David said, looking round to the others in the room, attracting their interest.

"Do what, Dave?" Kieron asked, wondering what he had in store.

"Something to get us out of here. All of us, and alive," David replied. Kieron and Juan exchanged glances and then looked at David like he had lost his mind.

"You… are kidding, right?" Juan asked, expecting his friend to just be joking, but David kept a straight face. "Ay dios mío, David! What the hell are you thinking? We'll get killed!" he said loudly, his use of Spanish betraying how scared he felt. He clutched his rapidly flashing collar, half expecting them all to start counting down at the mere mention of the plan.

"They can't blow our collars up just for making a plan up," David said, noticing Juan's panic. "They did that some time ago and boy, did it piss everyone off watching no end. We're going to die anyway, aren't we? We may as well give it a shot. If not for ourselves, for Duncan." It struck a chord with the larger of the other two in the hut.

"Well, if we're going to die on here anyway, then I'm in." Kieron said, Juan looking to him, still unconvinced. "But how are we going to do it?"

"Well, one thing we need to do is try and get rid of these collars, and try and create some kind of explosive," David explained. "There's some kind of store we passed at the end of the village, there has got to be some tools in there and supplies to make some kind of explosive." He looked to Juan, who was staring at the ground in front of David. "You with us, Juan?"

"It's a stupid idea, David, and right now it sounds like it's doomed to fail," he said, David's face falling at his friend's apparent refusal to aid him. "But, if we all worked on it, then maybe we could pull it off. So yeah, I'm in." he said. "For Duncan!"

"For Duncan!" David and Kieron said in unison.

* * *

**_Sunday 13__th__ April 2014_**

_The April 2014 Program, also known as the 17__th__ Battle Royale, was the largest game so far in the history of the Program. With forty-eight students from Larkboro, New Jersey, in the game, surpassing the forty-six from California back in July the previous year, it had the potential to be the bloodiest of them all. So far it was living up to its promise, the ratings hitting the roof and being watched by several million people across the country._

_Lee Dawford was one of those millions of viewers. An avid fan of the game ever since it had been first shown on TV, he'd been talking with Darrell and Zachary about holding a small party to watch the entirety of the Program round his house, live (well, nearly live, there was that ten minute delay) and uninterrupted to coincide with Spring Break. The details leaked out though, and Thursday evening, dozens of people from his school and from across Pinefalls descended on his house, intent on watching the bloody action. They'd brought along their own drinks and snacks, as well as camp beds and sleeping bags so as to stay over for the three nights. Lee and his older sister Melissa caved and decided to let them all come in. It helped that his parents were both away on vacation at the time.  
_

"_Zach doesn't know what he's missing," Lee stated from in the kitchen, taking another swig of his chilled energy drink, hoping the caffeine and sugars would help keep him up until at least the sun rose again. It was half four in the morning, Pinefalls an hour behind the nameless town constructed in Maryland (Site E). Classmate Darrell Fischer, as well as senior Justin Thornhill and his cheerleader girlfriend Teresa Doring were with him in the room, cold beverages in hand from the refrigerator._

"_You know he hates the Program," Darrell said, drinking some cola. "I'm not surprised he turned the invite down."_

"_Well that's his loss then," Lee said, craning his neck to look back into the living room. Several people as well as various foodstuffs were sprawled on the sofa and across the floor, some eagerly watching Kendra Slatter (Female #21) sprint away from the library on-screen, others already fallen asleep, unable to stay awake any longer. "Now come on, she hasn't even got her weapon out," Lee commented, watching the girl run empty handed from the future danger zone, her gun zipped up in her bag. "It's an elementary mistake. If she's attacked, she's going to have no chance. That's something I'd avoid doing at all costs."_

"_Maybe you should get a job commentating on the Program," Justin said, his arm wrapped around Teresa's waist. "You seem to know your stuff."_

"_That would be my dream job all right," Lee said, grinning._

"_Unless you end up in the Program yourself," Justin added on. "Not that you'd hate that."_

"_Hey, hey, don't go saying that kind of stuff! I'm in his class as well, you know!" Darrell argued, pointing accusingly at the senior, who just shrugged._

"_Hell, are you kidding me? I'd rule the playing field in the Battle Royale," Lee gloated._

"_Yeah, sure you would," Teresa said, rolling her eyes. Two other cheerleaders, Kirsty Nichols and Kimberly Allen walked in the kitchen, picking up some drinks and walking back into the darkened room, the whole cheerleading squad having turned up to watch, much to Lee__'__s annoyance._

"_I know what to prepare for, how to think, wha-"_

"_Hey, you guys, get in here! I think we're about to see some action!" Mark Turner shouted out, seated on the sofa in front of the TV, his younger brother moaning as he was woken up by the sudden shouting. The four from the kitchen scrambled to get through the doorway to enter the living room, crowded with fans, all eagerly watching the screen for some imminent bloodshed. They weren't to be disappointed. The student with the highest body count, Aaron Ershaw (Male #5), had just cornered one of the girls, Tabitha Grenz (Female #7) in an alleyway, and she was trapped with no way out. Aaron was holding a MAC-10 in her direction, the gun responsible for the deaths of four others. The girl wasn't such an innocent victim; she held a blood-stained machete in her hand, two students dying at her hands. Comparing their weapons though, it was only going to go one way._

"_This is going to be so good," Lee said, grinning._

_Tabitha screamed like a banshee and attempted to hurl the weapon at the male's chest, but he was much quicker on the trigger. At least seven bullet holes appeared across the girl's torso and neck before she could even bring her arm back to throw, and she collapsed to the ground in a bloody heap, her head almost separated from her body. A subtitle appeared on the screen at the bottom, a black bar with white writing. _'_Eliminated: Female #7 Tabitha Grenz. 8 Students remaining.'_

_There was loud cheering in the room as the hot favorite claimed his fifth kill of the Program. Lee could only feel a sense of awe for Aaron. He was doing it right, just like how Lee would play if he was in the game. And if it was working for Aaron Ershaw, why wouldn't it work for him?_

"_Yeah, I would rule in the Battle Royale," Lee said to himself with a slight smirk. He didn't know that two months down the line, he would have to prove it for real._

_

* * *

_

Lee Dawford (Male #5) was hating the Battle Royale more and more with each passing minute.

He thought that he could be one of the top competitors, if not _the_ top competitor this month. He knew what made a good player, one who could come through and win it all. You needed to have the brawn, you needed to have the brains, and both of those qualities he definitely knew he had. You also needed a lot of luck, but with his starting weapon, he was missing that, big time.

He got a spork.

'_This is stupid!_' Lee angrily thought. '_Aaron got a MAC-10, Felipe got a katana, and all I get is a fucking spork!_'

He'd considered tossing it away as soon as he found it nestling in his bag amongst the rest of his supplies, but thought otherwise. It could have some use, like inflicting minor stab wounds, gouging people's eyes out or just simply for eating, though he didn't have anything that needed to be eaten with it.

Despite being into the Program, Lee wasn't really into close combat, not knowing much, if anything, about martial arts. Besides, he knew that if he came across someone with a gun, he'd be dead before even getting to within a meter of them to deliver a punch or kick.

'_I need a better weapon,_' he thought. Ever since he left the school and discovered the plastic eating implement in his bag, he'd been on the search for the golden boxes. However, he hadn't come across any, no matter how hard he looked. It seemed as though the people in the school were out to get him, that or he was just spectacularly unlucky.

If he couldn't find any boxes, the other alternative would be to take a weapon from another player ('_Don't think of them as classmates, it's a fundamental weakness,_' he'd told himself from the start). Of course, he'd need to find someone first. And with at most forty-three other students on the island, he was bound to run into someone sooner or later.

As if on cue, the sound of a plastic bottle expanding with a pop and water sloshing about caught his attention. '_Bingo._' Trying hard to judge where the sound had come from, he tiptoed quietly, hoping not to attract their attention so he could take them by surprise. Then, through a gap in the foliage and pine needles, he saw the person making the noise, one of the seven students that had never made it onto the coach to begin with.

* * *

Tamsin Forrest (Female #8) was sitting on a large rock, drinking a mouthful of water from her bottle and holding a bread roll in her other hand. Setting the roll down on the rock, she leant on her hand, contemplating about the situation she was it. It was hell, no doubt about it. It felt like she'd already gone through hell as well. And right now, she only wanted to find one person, and that was her stepsister, Toni Mitchell (Female #13).

She'd gone out the school, intending to wait somewhere outside for when Toni departed, and saw that Gregory Higgins (Male #8) was waiting right outside after leaving right before her. At first, she thought he was trying to round up everyone for some kind of escape attempt or maybe even an anti-government protest.

Instead, he'd attacked her.

He tried to swipe at her face with his fists while laughing like Rachel had done in the classroom and telling her to 'die'. Tamsin screamed, ducking out of the way of his punches and ran as fast as her legs could carry her, frantically trying to come up with an explanation for why he was playing when he was supposed to hate everything the government stood for, which included the Program. She'd brushed a low branch out of her way when trying to escape, and heard it swing back and hit her attacker in the face. Not even stopping to check to see what had happened to Greg, she just kept on running for her life. After a few minutes, unable to hear anyone following her, she was confident she had finally lost him, and so she collapsed against a large rock, staying put for the last few hours.

Screwing the cap back onto the plastic bottle, she dropped it back into her bag without looking. At least that was what she was intending to do. Instead of hearing a soft fabric noise as the bottle hit the inside of the bag, she heard a louder thud and a slosh. Puzzled, she looked down, seeing the bottle lying on its side on the ground. Her bag that had been sitting there just minutes beforehand had vanished.

"Where's my bag?!" Tamsin exclaimed, frantically looking down at the empty patch of earth and all around the rock.

"Right here!" a male voice shouted from behind her. Tamsin looked round to the direction the voice came from, and got a face full of khaki colored fabric. Yelling out from having the bag swung into her face, Tamsin lost her balance and fell right off the rock, banging her head on the firm ground, but not enough to knock her out, just be slightly dazed.

Lee stood above her and gloated, carrying two bags. One was slung over his shoulder and the other, still unzipped, was tightly grasped in his hands. Her bag. She looked up at him, shaking her head to try and rid it of the stars that swam in her vision. "Lee…?" she gasped, recognizing the male.

"Thanks for the extra gear, Tamsin," he mocked, placing a foot on the rock that she had been sitting on just seconds ago. "It'll really come in handy, I bet!"

Tamsin just stared at Lee, mouth hanging open in shock and frightened that he was going to kill her now he was done with her. She shut her eyes and began to sob, praying that Toni would suddenly emerge from the trees and get rid of the boy, but that was just wishful thinking. And for those few horrible seconds, she thought she would never see Toni ever again.

Thankfully for Tamsin, eliminating the girl wasn't on Lee's mind. He already had what he came for, and without a weapon or a map, she'd end up being killed off or walking into a danger zone sooner or later anyway. He just laughed once more and turned away to make a hasty retreat back into the bushes from where he came, carrying both bags until he was certain he was far enough away from the crying girl to check things out. Setting the bags down on the dirt, he had a look inside the one he stole from Tamsin.

"Like taking candy from a big baby," he said with a grin, rummaging around and removing a water bottle and two rolls. "Now, what weapon did she have? A gun? A blade? A-" He trailed off and the color drained from his face when he pulled the weapon out and brought it up to eye level. He couldn't believe it.

He'd stolen a feather duster from her.

* * *

The sky over Dante's Island was slowly lightening, the heavens now a royal blue color with a hint of purple and pink to the east as the sun crept closer and closer to emerging over the horizon.

Mark Turner (Male #21) and his younger brother Arthur Turner (Male #20) were sitting down by the river bank at the extreme west of zone D7, the elder sibling looking up at the sky above. The sun would be up sooner or later, banishing the darkness and making it a lot easier to see. That much he was thankful for, for there was little else to be happy about. He was in the Battle Royale, which while it was a terrible thing on its own, it was made all the more worse by the fact his little brother was included in the lineup as well.

Siblings in the same Program were rare, since they would often have to be twins for them to be in the same class. The 19th Battle Royale would be the third Program to have blood relatives fighting against each other, and the first in which they weren't twins. It would be extremely heartbreaking in any case for the parents watching at home (if they were still alive, that is) knowing that at best only one of their children would be coming home, at worst, neither.

"It's getting lighter, finally," Mark said, taking a sip from a bottle of slightly murky water while his brother merely nodded. To the viewers who may have been watching him, and the soldiers who would definitely be watching him in case there were some developments, it looked like he was just drinking from one of his supplied bottles of water. In actual fact, he was drinking from his supplied weapon; he got an empty plastic bottle.

Compared to the majority of the other weapons out there, it was terrible, no doubt about that. He had been putting it to relatively good use though, filling it up with water from the river and creating a third water bottle to go with the other two. It didn't look very refreshing though, and Mark could have sworn there was some kind of tadpole-like organism in the bottle earlier, before tipping the water away and refilling it again.

"Want a sip?" he asked, offering the bottle to his younger brother, who reacted like he was being made to drink his own urine.

"No thanks," Arthur said, looking away from the bottle. "Looks like watered-down crap." He looked down to the ground and laid his eyes on his own weapon nestling on the ground, a Walther PPK/E pistol, a world away from the plastic container his brother had received.

"No, it's actually fine, tastes a little bit like metal though," he said, taking another sip and resting the bottle on his lap. "Might be from iron in the rocks upstream."

"Maybe," Arthur said, still sounding like he was in a foul mood.

"Okay, what's eating you?" Mark asked. "You've been pissed off ever since we left the school." Arthur didn't speak at first, still looking ahead at the mud and slow-moving water.

"I'm pissed off because I'm not even supposed to be here," he said, not turning away from the river. "I'm not a junior, I'm still a sophomore, and I'm not cut out for your grade." He picked the gun up and held it loosely in his hands, turning his head to face his brother. "You know, it's funny really. I was going to see Principle Jones to ask if I could get moved back down to my original grade later this month. Should have done it earlier, at least I wouldn't be here in this hellhole, I'll just be at home watching it on TV." At that point he realized he'd made a horrible foot-in-mouth statement, which Mark instantly picked up on.

"Yeah, you'll still be watching it. You'll still be watching the rest of us kill each other, and you'll still be watching _me_," Mark said. He felt hurt by what Arthur said, and that was followed soon after by the familiar angry feeling.

"Mark, I didn't-"

"Oh no, it's quite alright!" Mark interrupted before Arthur could get a word in edgeways, his temper snapping fully. He didn't even see his brother anymore, all he saw was red. "It's absolutely fine that you say you shouldn't be here, but because we didn't skip a grade you're saying we all should go through it lying down?" There was no stopping him now, the anger was consuming him and it needed to be released. He didn't even notice that he was crumpling the bottle up in his hand, squeezing the water out the top and making it run down his hand. "You're just acting like a selfish asshole! Just because you skipped a grade, it doesn't make you special! If I had my way, I wouldn't want any of us in here, but you, you're just looking out for yourself!" he spat.

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean it," Arthur said, trying getting through to his brother, trying to calm him down. He knew his brother had problems controlling his anger, but he had never acted this way towards his own flesh and blood before, and it honestly scared him. In the Program, losing your temper like this often led to someone being killed.

Mark was about to open his mouth to say something else at his sibling, but something caught his eye that was floating in the river and he turned his head to get a better look at whatever it was.

"What? What is it, Mark?" Arthur desperately asked, not noticing he was looking at something.

"I don't know. Why do you care?" Mark replied harshly, standing up to get a better look. "It looks like a log's floating this way, if you're so interested," he said, unsure what it truly was. As it drifted closer and closer to the shore, the pair noticed the log looked to be wrapped in some kind of red material.

A red jacket to be exact, accompanied by a tangle of hair swaying in the water like a jellyfish that had blonde tentacles. And the log had arms and legs.

Mark finally found out why the water tasted slightly metallic.

The log wasn't a log at all, it was a body. The body of Francesca Young (Female #22), looking very much the worse for wear considering she had spent the last hour submerged in river water. The right side of her face was almost gone, the skin and muscles scraped off by the rocks at the base of the falls, exposing her fractured skull.

"Oh god!" Mark yelled, dropping the bottle into the river and grabbing his bag, trying to get away from the gruesome sight. Arthur picked his gun and bag up, slowly backing up, unable to take his eyes off the waterlogged corpse as if it was going to leap up and attack him if he turned away. Mark grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away from the body at the river bank, abandoning the water bottle that started drifting downriver towards the sea along with the girl's body.

The two male students didn't stop running until there was a significant distance between them and the spot where the corpse made its most unwelcome appearance. There was a large pine tree up ahead from them, its branches looking to offer some kind of protection, so the pair came to a halt before it. An abandoned mill lay ahead in the distance, a large wheel slowly rotating off to the side as the river passed underneath it.

"I did it again, didn't I?" Mark said, collapsing against the tree's trunk. Seeing Francesca's body had brought him back to his senses, and he was no longer furious; he was scared out of his mind instead. He was also one weapon down, not like it really mattered. "Arthur… I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have shouted at you like that," he said. "What the hell was I thinking…?"

"I should have been thinking more about you," Arthur replied, sitting next to his brother, watching the water wheel trundle silently in the distance. "We're brothers, it_'_s what brothers do."

"Yeah, we're brothers," Mark said, sighing. '_Some brother I am though,_'

* * *

"I didn't think they'd restock medical supplies," Toni Mitchell (Female #13) said, examining her bag. When she'd first entered the clinic and met up with Darrell Fischer (Male #7), the duffel bag only held her food, water, map and 'weapon'. After looking around the clinic and finding a room full of the supplies she was talking about, they'd grabbed several and split them between their bags. Bandages, antiseptics, a few hypodermic needles, they'd even managed to snag a bottle of aspirin from off the shelf. "If they want students killing each other, why are they putting this stuff back on the shelves?" she said, holding up a packet of flu medicine.

"Hell if I know why they do it, all I know is that they always restock supplies between each game," Darrell replied, taking the packet and dropping it into his bag. "Medical and some food stocks. They usually do that while clearing out the island and removing the bodies in preparation for the following game."

"Removing the bodies," Toni said, pausing for a second while a mental image of her classmates being shoved into body bags entered her mind. "I really wanted to know that, thanks," she groaned.

"You're welcome," Darrell cheekily said, walking to a window and looking out to the east. It was dawn, the orange and yellow hues hanging in the sky marking the imminent sunrise. "Isn't it beautiful?" he asked, looking back round to the female companion. He never really appreciated how beautiful a sunrise was, but as it could very well be the last time he saw one, he wanted to savor it for as long as possible. Toni had to agree, it was beautiful, but for an entirely different reason. It meant she could finally leave this clinic and look for Tamsin.

"Are we ready to leave yet?" she asked, sounding impatient.

"Yup," Darrell said, turning away from the window and looking at the bag hanging round Toni's shoulder. "I think we've picked up enough."

"This is only just enough? Isn't this like, a bit much?" Toni said, looking at the stockpile of medicine in both their bags. "Do we even need half of this kit?"

"Oh hell yes, we'll need anything we can find if we want to survive for long out there," Darrell said. "Did you know approximately sixty percent of the participants that haven't died by the end of day one have picked up injuries," he informed her, remembering a statistic he'd read somewhere online. "And quite a handful of them end up killing the student later on unless they're treated. Stuff gets infected quickly, especially in this kind of environment."

"That's pretty nasty," Toni said. "You know, your knowledge of this game is useful, but it's also really starting to scare me on how much you know."

"Member of the games club, baby," Darrell said. "Anyway, if we're lucky we'll end up being in the other forty percent. I think we have enough supplies to last us a long while yet."

"So we're all set to go?" Toni asked, hoping they could finally leave the building. She didn't want to waste any more time.

"Yup! We're all ready, so let's get out of here and find Tam-"

At once, a loud series of bangs echoed through the corridor that the two teens were walking down. The plaster on the wall opposite Toni immediately disintegrated and crumbled to the floor.

"Holy shit!" Darrell cried out over the echo, pulling Toni, who seemed to be paralyzed after seeing the wall turn to powder before her eyes, down to the floor. If the pair of them had been able to see the wall behind the cloud of plaster dust, they would've seen ten freshly made bullet holes.

And if they were able to look around the corner into the adjoining corridor, they would have seen the source of those bullet holes. Gregory Higgins (Male #8) was standing around the corner to Toni and Darrell, dried blood stuck to his face from a minor head wound.

And he was holding an Uzi in his hands and grinning madly.

* * *

**End of Hour 5**

**Hours Remaining: 67  
Students Eliminated in Hour 5: None  
Students Remaining: 41**

**

* * *

**

_A/N: Yes, Rachel and Greg are both suffering from the same disorder, kudos to anyone who knows what's causing it. Just to let you guys know, the report won't be up until the beginning of Hour 7, so you're going to have to wait another hour for that._

_And finally, I'm putting up a poll in my profile about which of the remaining characters in the game you readers like the most._


	11. Hour 6: Double Whammy

**Hour 6: 05:00 – 05:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13th June 2014**

**

* * *

**

"Who the hell's there?" Toni Mitchell (Female #13) whispered in a panicked tone, her face so low down on the floor she could just about taste the plaster dust lying there.

"I have no fucking clue, but I don't want to find out either, not if whoever there's got a gun like that," Darrell Fischer (Male #7) whispered back, keeping his voice down enough so only Toni could hear him. The boy who'd just fired ten rounds at them, Gregory Higgins (Male #8) was just standing there, wrongly confident he'd taken the pair down. He hadn't expected to get either of them with that wave of bullets, but he couldn't hear any speaking (none he could hear anyway) or any movement at all, so he assumed they had been hit and were both lying there, stone dead.

'_Good job, two down, but more to go,_' Greg thought, gently massaging the minor wound on his forehead, caused when an earlier victim-to-be had swung a tree branch into his face and knocked him out for an hour or two, managing to get away from him. It was a disappointing start, but he had made up for it with the two kills he thought he had, a boy and a girl from the sounds of their voices as they casually talked before he shot at them.

'_May as well see who I got,_' Greg thought, strolling to the corridor and expecting to see two corpses lying there. When he rounded the corner, he was surprised, and also a tad angry, to see nothing at all. "What the?!" he shouted, grabbing the torch from his bag and shining it down the hallway in search of the two 'corpses'. He could see the two of them tiptoeing away, very much alive, near the opposite end of the corridor and almost out of sight around the corner. Furious, he opened fire again, but he was too far away to get a hit on either of them. He could hear the girl screaming and heavy footsteps as the pair began to run for it. In the end it was just another load of wasted bullets. However, he knew they would be making their way to the entrance. '_I'm not done with you two yet!_' he angrily thought, quickly departing the scene.

* * *

"This way, come on!" Darrell said loudly, leading the way down a flight of stairs, with Toni just behind him, gasping for breath in between tears.

"I-I think we lost him," Toni said in between sobs, looking behind her and seeing no sign of the gun toting student.

"Great, the way out is only down-" Darrell stopped mid sentence and ground to a halt, staring in shock at the sight ahead. Toni nearly ran into him and opened her mouth to ask why he stopped, until she too saw the reason why.

"Greg…?" she whispered, unable to believe what she was seeing. The student had just walked out in front of them from an adjacent corridor, the Uzi pointing at them and ready to mow the two students down. Some way or another, he had found a different route to the first floor, and had been waiting for them, blocking the entrance.

"Game over," Greg said, finger squeezing down on the trigger.

Without thinking, Darrell roughly shoved Toni off to the side just as the student opened fire. A few rounds shot out of the barrel before it just clicked, running out of ammo. Nevertheless, two hit the torso of the male in front of him, another two hitting the wall behind him, though they would have likely struck Toni if she hadn't been pushed against the wall. Darrell howled out and fell backwards onto the floor, doubling up and clutching his stomach, thin streaks of blood from his gut already staining his hands. Toni stared in shock at Darrell's writhing form, and saw that Greg was fumbling with reloading the Uzi with a new magazine from his bag. It was a window of opportunity for her to attack him while he was unable to fire back. The dictionary was remarkably still clutched in her hands, and it would be perfect for knocking him out, just like Darrell had nearly done to her when she first came across him.

'_It's now or never, Toni,_' she mentally told herself. Jumping up from the ground, she ran up to the boy, tears running down her face as she raised the book up ready to strike him round his head. Greg looked up, slightly startled, but just put his arm up and swatted her aside like she was just a fly. Darrell watched on helplessly as the girl fell to the floor against the wall once more, Greg putting his foot firmly on the fallen dictionary so she couldn't attack him with it again. Toni only had enough time to get to her feet before Greg was finishing inserting the magazine.

"Toni, forget about it! Just get out of here!" Darrell hollered at her, wincing in pain. "He's just going to kill you as well if you stay here any longer, just find Tamsin!"

"But-"

"Just go!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Looking back to Darrell's future killer one last time as he finally finished reloading, she sprinted across the reception towards the entrance. Greg noticed her escaping and raised the gun up, firing at the fleeing girl. Fortunately for Toni, none of the bullets hit as she ran out though the wide doorway, the rounds hammering into the wall and ceiling instead and adding to the deadly décor left behind from previous games. She felt incredibly guilty leaving Darrell there to die as she ran as quickly as possible from the building, but if she stayed to try and help him, both of them would definitely be killed, and it wouldn't help Tamsin in the slightest.

'_Oh God, I hope you're alright, Tamsin…_' Toni thought as she ran down the path, trying hard not to think about Darrell's fate.

* * *

The tranquillizer dart Greg had been shot with almost twenty-four hours ago had done its job better than anyone had expected. Not only had it knocked him out almost instantly outside the school gates, but it had a side effect. It had totally scrambled his mind up.

Forgetting about Toni, who was too far away to hit by then, he turned back to Darrell, lying there with blood trickling over his arms and the floor from the wounds in his stomach. Now he was up close to the writhing male, Greg wouldn't be able miss his target and had no qualms in killing him, his conscience having gone out the window. Darrell looked up at his would-be murderer and spoke, trying to keep his fear under wraps. He knew he was done for.

"Why are you playing, Greg? This isn't like you at all, you're supposed to be against this kind of thing!"

"No hard feelings, but I'm only playing the game like we're supposed to," Greg said. "We kill each other, we get whittled down and the last one standing gets to go home. And that's going to be me. Not that cowardly bitch who left you to die, and definitely not you."

"You're mad, you've gone fucking mad, you know that?!" Darrell said. That was the wrong thing to say as Greg glared down at him, baring his teeth and pulling the trigger. Darrell never got a chance to scream as several bullets shot out of the barrel and entered his upper torso and neck in a bloody spray, killing him almost instantly. After the loud noises reverberating in the corridors of the clinic died down, there was a deathly silence for a few seconds, before the killer spoke.

"And you're dead, you know that?" Greg replied to Darrell's still body, wiping spots of his blood off his face that had splattered up onto him. Darrell couldn't say anything back to him, his mouth hanging slightly open with his eyes glazing over and just staring straight ahead. Greg didn't feel anything at murdering the games club member, no remorse, no sadness, nothing. If he did feel anything, it would have most likely been a sense of achievement at finally getting on the scoreboard. "Well, one down, better than none," he muttered, slinging his bag over his shoulder and wandering out of the clinic, Uzi in hand. He'd got his first kill, and he seriously hoped it wouldn't be his last. For Darrell Fischer (Male #7), the game was over. For Greg, the game was on.

* * *

At 05:08, the sun finally rose over Dante's Island, bringing the first glimpse of sunlight to the participants since the game started. For five of the original forty-five students, they never got the chance to see that sunrise. Natalie Ellis (Female #6) didn't think she'd see the light of day ever again, but there she was, sitting on the western beach as the sun rose behind her. It was still dark and cool where she sat, the long shadows that the pine trees cast shielded her from the sun. There were a few boats passing by now and then on the waves, patrolling the waters to prevent anyone from escaping Dante's Island, just in case the collars didn't blow their heads to kingdom come. One such boat was crossing her field of view at that moment and she could have sworn she saw a soldier waving and shouting to her from on board. She simply replied by raising a middle finger at him, and the shouting in the distance turned to laughter. As the boat disappeared round the headland northwest of her, Natalie shivered and clutched her legs even tighter, as if she was trying to roll up into a ball. She had been by herself the whole time ever since leaving the classroom, the nearest thing to contact with anybody else had been seeing Olivier Dumont (Male #6) running down the path in the opposite direction to her just outside the school. Having nobody else to talk to, she'd just gone to the beach and began thinking.

She recalled a movie they'd watched on the last day of their sophomore year, "_The Day After Tomorrow_". The one with all the extreme weather events, tornados in Los Angeles, a major storm surge in New York City ('_how convenient that major cities are the target for these kinds of phenomena,_' she thought), and all capped off by a blizzard that created a new ice age. But Natalie didn't remember the movie because of those events, instead she remembered it for one of the quotes that the female lead had said half way through.

"Everything I ever cared about, everything I've worked for… has all been preparation for a future that no longer exists," Natalie whispered the quote to herself. It was undeniably true, not only for that character in the film, but also for her as well. She was the one who'd got straight A's in her classes, she was the class president, she was the one who wanted to do something worthwhile with her life. And all of that was going to come to nothing. Not if she died during this Program.

"Why am I here? What did I do wrong?" she said, continuing her monologue. The Battle Royale was officially supposed to sort out the youth crime rate and eliminate the dangerous people from society, the murderers, drug dealers and all that. But she didn't kill anyone or sell/take any drugs. She didn't even go out partying unlike half the class. She didn't think she was a dangerous person in the government's eyes.

'_Or am I?_'

It got her thinking back to an English class some years ago back in middle school. She and the class were reading a short story about a boy who lived in a dystopian society in the near future or a parallel universe. It was his eleventh birthday (or tenth, Natalie couldn't quite remember), and so he had to take an exam as per the government's orders. He took it and passed. And as a result of his above average intelligence, he was deemed a threat to the ruling party and thus executed. Some people had mentioned that sort of idea was an underlying motive for the Program coming to America, and the more Natalie thought about it, the more it made sense.

'_If the government really is trying to get rid of the dregs of society and control the crime rate, then why are they picking schools at random instead of choosing the worst ones?_' she pondered, trying to put her finger on what was true and what wasn't. She wished she had her friends there with her. Allison Shepherd (Female #17) was good friends with her, Zachary Reilly (Male #16) talked to her on occasion and Kirsty Nichols (Female #14) and Leah Smith (Female #18), being the nicer half of the four 'earbleeders' in their class, were also good to talk to. She had no idea where any of them were, although Leah and Kirsty were currently just one zone east of her.

Natalie's bag lay open just next to her, the barrel of her weapon, a tranquillizer dart gun, poking out of it. One dart from it was enough to knock out an adult human for two hours, Natalie had read from the booklet that came with the gun. Two darts at once, however, would deliver a deadly overdose of the sedative, which was probably what the people in charge were hoping to happen. Natalie had briefly considered jabbing herself with one of the darts just so she would stop thinking about all these things. With it coming up to quarter past five in the morning however, she would just sleep through the announcements at six and could possibly end up lying unconscious in a zone that would blow her neck to pieces in time to come. And if anyone found her intent on killing, her collar would give away that she was just unconscious, and unable to defend herself, she would be an easy target. So that idea was scratched straight away.

'_Speaking of being an easy target…_' Now it was getting light, it occurred to Natalie that she was exposed by sitting on the beach in the open like that, as if she was just asking to be picked off. She looked around at her surroundings: to her right and across the bay, the western headland of Dante's Island; directly behind her, the pine trees; to her left, more beach that stretched south for a couple of miles. '_I guess the headland's more out of the way, nobody will be there, hopefully,_' Natalie figured, picking her bag up and starting to walk north, parallel to the coastline.

* * *

The dense forest extended far to the northeast of Natalie's original position with paths few and far between the trees, which made it a nightmare to navigate through if one didn't have the right tools for the job.

Fortunately for Tristan Armstrong (Male #1), he had the perfect tool for getting through it all.

_Thwack! Thwack!_

With another slash of his machete, the first student to leave the school hacked his way further through the dense undergrowth of the forest. Yes, it was a slow, laborious and physically exhausting trek, but since he was avoiding the paths that other students would be taking, he hadn't met anybody else since leaving the school building over five and a half hours ago. That was a good and a bad thing. True, he had been trying to avoid any conflicts with other students, but at the same time, he hadn't seen the friend he was trying to meet up with, Graham MacLeod (Male #11) either.

While he was the first student let out of the building, being called out dead on midnight, Graham would have been called out at twenty minutes past twelve, with nineteen of their fellow classmates separating the two boys. Tristan had considered waiting out for Graham at first, but the gap in between them seemed too big, and too dangerous with students like William Blackwell (Male #2), Mallory Derwent (Female #4) and Lee Dawford (Male #5) for him to wait just outside. So with a quick hand signal to Graham just before leaving, they'd agreed on the mountain to meet up. Except he hadn't seen any sign of this mountain as of yet. In fact, he could have sworn he was going downhill at some points.

"This can't be right, can it?" he asked himself, taking a break from hacking through the bushes and sitting on a tree stump, checking the compass he had hanging around his neck. The needle pointed towards him and the path he'd made in the vegetation behind him, pointing north. He sighed and looked up to the trees, seeing the bright early morning sky through the leaves.

And out of the corner of his eyes, he saw another student sitting among the branches.

Nearly falling off the stump, he continued to look up. He couldn't see the person's face as it was turned away from him, but he could see their clothes and hair. A pair of black sneakers, dark blue cargo pants and a grey shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The person's brown or black hair was cut short, so he guessed it was a male up in the trees. Definitely wasn't Graham though.

'_Damn, so much for that idea,_' Tristan thought, starting to panic and the light blinking faster on his collar. Even when trying to avoid other people he had still found someone. '_Maybe they haven't seen me yet,_' he thought, getting back to his feet and keeping an eye on the figure hiding in the leaves. '_If I go now, I can get away befo-_' His train of thought can to an abrupt end when he tripped over the stump while looking up at the mystery person, causing him to fall flat on his face. "Owwwww…" he moaned, his voice muffled by the dirt, leaves and pine needles.

The unknown person slowly began descending from the branches and jumped the rest of the way to the ground, turning to face Tristan as he pushed himself up back off the ground, his face covered in mud, foliage and a red liquid oozing out of his nostril. He'd given himself a nosebleed, quite a bad one at that.

Tristan looked round and immediately saw the male he'd seen in the trees wasn't a male after all. Ursula Steine (Female #19), now standing behind him, could easily have been mistaken for a boy, considering she often dressed up and acted like one. Her dark brown hair was cut short as always, which often led her to be (falsely) accused of being a lesbian, something she hated.

"Tristan, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I think," Tristan responded, sounding like his nose was blocked. "Ow, my nose… you got a tissue?" he asked, realizing he was bleeding down his face and orange T-shirt.

"Don't have one, sorry," Ursula said, rummaging through the unzipped duffel bag that hung round her shoulder.

"Don't worry then," Tristan sighed, inhaling deeply through his mouth and wiping some of the blood away, succeeding on only smearing it over his hands and face and resembling a little kid trying to eat spaghetti with the mess he was making. "What were you doing up there in the trees?" he asked, pointing upwards with a bloody finger.

"I was hoping it would be a good hiding spot from everyone else," Ursula replied. "What brings you here?"

"I'm heading to the mountain, going to meet up with Graham," Tristan replied. Ursula gave him a funny look in return, which confused him. "What? What is it?" he asked.

"Tristan, we're in zone D3. That's west of the school, shouldn't you be going south from there to reach the mountain?" she asked, looking a little bewildered.

"I-I am going south," Tristan said, going pale from shock, showing her the compass with the needle pointing towards the path he'd cleared in the vegetation. "See? That's north, that's where I've come from."

"The sun's rising in that direction, since when does it rise in the north?" Ursula stated, looking at the trail he'd made, the shadows of the trees stretching in their direction with the sun just about visible, still low in the sky. Ursula got her compass out her bag and put it next to Tristan's, the needle pointing at right angles to his. Hers was pointing towards the north, while Tristan's was actually pointing to the east, and had been from the very start.

"Those bastards, they gave me a dud compass!" Tristan groaned, starting to feel sick. "What the hell am I going to do now? Graham's going to be there already and he's probably wondering where I am…"

"Look," Ursula said, handing him her working compass. "Take this one. I don't need it, since I'm not searching for anyone."

"Are you sure? What if you get lost or end up walking into a danger zone?" Tristan asked as he took it from her, pretty surprised at her act of generosity.

"I still have a map, I'll be fine, believe me," Ursula replied. "You'd better go, Graham's probably worried about you."

"Yeah, you're right, I'll have to hurry," he said. "Thanks a lot for the compass, Ursula, you're a lifesaver." He picked up his bag and walked off in the right direction, fully recovered from the shock of being lost and now sported a wide grin on his face, despite the blood that covered it.

A piercing pain suddenly struck his back, just below his right shoulder.

All happiness was immediately gone, replaced by immense agony as he collapsed onto the dirt once again, crying out loudly. Had he been able to see behind him, he would have seen a bolt sticking out from his now-shattered shoulder blade. And further behind, Ursula was standing there with a crossbow in her hands, having just fired the bolt at him.

Tristan groaned in pain, vainly fighting back tears despite the large amount of pain his shoulder was giving him. He got back onto all fours, attempting to stand up and make a run for it. He heard a twanging sound from behind him, then felt a sharp blow to the back of his head and a darkness seeping across the right side of his vision.

Then he felt nothing.

Ursula slowly approached the boy as he jerked once and then collapsed, stopping moving altogether. She'd fired another crossbow bolt, the aim better and the shot going clean through the back of his skull, a fatal shot.

Ursula looked away and started wiping away tears that had formed, disgusted with herself for killing him, even though it was her plan from the very moment she laid eyes on him from up in the branches. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done in her life, and she knew she would have to live with it, but at the same time, she knew she had to kill if she wanted to survive.

'_It would have been easier if he didn't see me..._' she thought. Her plan was to kill him quickly before he knew she was there. She had hoped to shoot him from behind, which while it sounded cowardly, she wouldn't have seen his face, she wouldn't have known who it was and he'd just be an anonymous victim.

"_You're a lifesaver."_

His last words just kept on repeating themselves in her mind. She shook her head to clear her thoughts, to try and erase any guilt she had. Kneeling down to pick the machete out of his bag that laid in front of him, she saw the second bolt had gone straight through his head, sticking out his right eye, or what was left of it. That, coupled with all the blood from his nosebleed, made it look like a scene from a horror movie. Turning away with the grisly sight, she doubled up and threw up her half-digested food.

"Why do we have to do this?" she shouted loudly once the vomiting had stopped, knowing the cameras and microphones would be picking her cries up. "Why do we have to kill to go home?" She almost expected someone to answer her questions, but there was no reply, no voice, nothing. She got back to her feet, wiping away some more tears. "I-I'm so sorry, Tristan," Ursula said, glancing at the body again and fighting the urge to empty her stomach again. "I wish I didn't have to do it, b-but if I don't, I'll be killed. I-I don't want to die," she said, turning and running away from the scene, leaving what used to be Tristan Armstrong (Male #1) behind. "I really, _really_, don't want to die."

* * *

**End of Hour 6**

**Hours Remaining: 66  
Students Eliminated in Hour 6: Male #7: Darrell Fischer, Male #1: Tristan Armstrong  
Students Remaining: 39**

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* * *

**

_A/N: Sorry I haven't been updating this for a while, I've been busy over the summer with an important dissertation, which is now done and dusted. I don_'_t own _'The Day After Tomorrow'_ btw, but it is one of the films I love the most. As for the other short story Natalie remembered, that was one I've read myself. I think it was called _'The Test'_, but I'm not completely sure._

_Next chapter, it's the first report. I'm still debating whether to include some music before the announcement or not. Had a good rock song in mind for it, but we'll see._


	12. Hour 7: R1: Welcome to the Jungle

**Hour 7: 06:00 – 06:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

**

* * *

**

The opening six hours of the 19th Battle Royale had drawn to a close. At precisely six o'clock, loudspeakers perched atop twenty-meter high poles across the island and inside every building were switched on, emitting a loud static sound as they crackled to life. It was time for the first report of the game, but before the all-important information was to be read out, a rock song by _Guns 'n' Roses_ started playing out over the speakers.

"_Welcome to the jungle, we got fun 'n' games.  
We got everything you want, honey we got the names.  
We are the people that can find whatever you may need.  
If you got the money, honey, we got your disease.  
Jungle, welcome to the jungle,  
Watch it bring it to your shun na na na na na na na na knees, knees.  
I wanna watch you bleed._"

* * *

David Lessing (Male #10) scowled at the choice of music. It was one of Duncan's favorite songs, and if he was still alive, he'd probably be singing loudly along to it. The music died down soon after the first verse and then the voice of their male instructor, slightly distorted by the speakers but still understandable, rang out.

"_Good morning, class 3-A, time to rise and shine, you've got a long day ahead of you,"_ Taro spoke cheerfully, his tone a sharp contrast to how most of the students were currently feeling. _"I hope you're all wide awake to hear me and that you haven't been sleeping on the job. Like the saying goes; you snooze, you lose. Moving on, I have to say you're getting off to a very promising start indeed. Not including your dear old friend Duncan Marshall _(at which point all three boys in the cabin swore loudly at him)_, there have been five deaths so far._"

"What?!" Juan Rivera (Male #17) exclaimed from by the window where he was still acting as their lookout. "That many dead already?"

"Hey, shut up a minute!" David shouted, wishing Juan would quieten down so he could listen for what Taro had to say next. Kieron Bolt (Male #3) looked up to the speaker mounted on the ceiling, silently hoping none of his other friends were among the dead.

"_Here's the order in which they died, so get your pens ready to mark them down,_" Taro continued. "_Female #20, Yvonne Thompson; Female #9, Paula Garrison; Female #22, Francesca Young; Male #7, Darrell Fischer and Male #1, Tristan Armstrong._"

Kieron's jaw dropped when Paula's name was announced, although Juan and David didn't seem to notice.

"_Next up is the list of upcoming danger zones, so listen carefully as I'm only going to say these once,"_ Taro spoke again. _"First is F1 and that is activated at 7am. Next is J4 and that will be a danger zone from 9am. The last one for now is B8, and that will blow your head off from 11am. Don't forget that all these zones will stay in effect until the end of the game, and that G3 is still a danger zone. One last thing; only one of the golden boxes has been discovered so far! Come _on_! There're eleven others still waiting to be discovered, don't you want to have an advantage over your peers? If you don't find any more soon, I may have to reveal the whereabouts of some of the boxes to you. That's all I have to say for now, Hanako will be here in six hours for the midday report. I will see you all again in twelve hours from now. No, I apologize; I will see _some_ of you again in twelve hours. Over and out!_" Laughing quietly at his own joke, Taro hung up and the loudspeakers went dead.

"Shit!" Kieron exclaimed almost immediately, unable to believe what he was hearing. It was bad enough that Duncan had been killed, but now he'd just heard that the girlfriend of his close friend had died as well. Juan looked over sadly to him, but David didn't say anything at all and just went back to what he was doing before the announcement came; using his axe to pull up the floorboards from the other side of the cabin. Kieron halfway expected those kinds of reactions from the other two, since neither seemed to be as close to Paula or any of the other deceased as he was.

Stuart had been a close childhood friend of Kieron's, so he had gotten to know Paula quite well when the two of them hooked up a couple years back. Kieron fondly remembered one time when the two lovers had joined him and his gang when they went to spray graffiti over William's brand new car as part of a drunken dare. He used the term 'gang' very loosely, though. They weren't really a gang, more like a group of guys going around and being a general public nuisance. Many other school gangs in the states were thugs heavily involved in murder, burglary, drugs, et cetera. In contrast, David and the others really only got up to petty vandalism at most.

'_How long ago was that? Oh, only a month…_' Kieron sadly thought, realizing he was on the brink of tears. Knowing that two of the five people he was with on that day were now dead made it seem like years ago.

"Hey, Kieron, you even paying attention?" David asked, bringing Kieron back to the real world. "Put this plank with the others."

"Huh? Oh, yeah, yeah," Kieron replied, taking the piece of wood and looking around the now-cluttered cabin. Just an hour earlier, he and Juan had gone to the store at the north of the village and helped themselves to plenty of items off the shelves. Electrical wire, nuts, bolts, tape and other things that they thought might help were now littered all around the place. '_I hope David knows what he's doing,_' Kieron thought.

David brought the hand axe down again and broke another floorboard off to add to the pile next to the bunk beds. The axe came down wonky though and the piece of wood was sliced in half, one piece sliding into the space between the cabin floor and the ground before he had a chance to catch it. He cursed, but a second later there was a clang from below.

"What was that?" Kieron asked, putting his plank on the pile.

"Do you think I know? Juan, pass me one of the flashlights," David ordered. Juan picked his up from the window and tossed it to him. His aim was appalling though, as it hit the floor and bounced into the hole that David had created. "You idiot, just hand it," David growled.

"Sorry," Juan muttered under his breath and walked over to hand Kieron's flashlight to him, leaving his post. David snatched it off him and shone the light into the hole, seeing the broken pece of wood lying at an angle, propped up on one side by a large metal container.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" David said with a smirk.

The door to the cabin suddenly opened.

Juan was the first to hear the hinges squeaking and immediately stood up, reaching for one of the 'boomerang daggers' that belonged to Kieron. David looked round and clutched his hand axe tighter while Kieron noticed Juan's gun was over on the far side of the hut by the bunk beds, out of reach and useless to them.

'_They'd have been able to hear David shouting, they knew we were in here!_' Kieron thought, desperately hoping a killer wasn't entering their hideout. When they finally saw the person who'd walked into the cabin, the three boys realized that the newcomer couldn't have heard them. In fact, he couldn't hear anything at all.

Graham MacLeod (Male #11) shut the door behind him, looked to his right, and saw the three gang members, two of them holding dangerous-looking weapons. Juan made a rush to the door, blocking Graham's exit and holding the splintery weapon out in front of him in defense. For the deaf boy, who wasn't expecting three armed students, it was a massive and quite horrifying shock.

"D-don' kill me, ah didn' know any'an was heh!" Graham practically screeched, raising his hands and looking down at the piece of boomerang with terrified eyes. "P'ease!"

"What is he doing here?" David asked, sounding annoyed. Kieron grabbed some paper he'd taken from the store and wrote the question down, passing it to Graham, who scanned the words, Juan stepping back and putting the wooden shard away.

"Ah was look' for T'istan," Graham answered. "He was suppose to mee' me aroun' heh. Hah you seen him any'air?"

It was a question that caught the others off guard, and no one in the cabin said a word, not knowing how to break the news to him. Kieron lowered his head though, which got the message across to the deaf boy crystal clear. "He… he's dead, isn' he?" Graham stuttered, backing up against the door and starting to hyperventilate. Kieron looked away from the deaf boy and nodded slowly. Graham stared at him in shock, then broke down crying and slid down to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. "Dis wasn' men' to happen…" he cried, feeling like his world had been torn apart.

"This is all we need," David muttered to himself, shaking his head and climbed down the hole in the floorboards to examine the metal container. Kieron scribbled on another piece of paper and then handed it to Graham, who looked up and slowly took it with a shaking hand. He looked at the untidy scrawl, seeing a jumble of letters and numbers that wobbled in front of him as his eyes continuously filled up with tears.

_F20 F9 F22 M7 M1  
F1 - 0700 J4 - 0900 B8 – 1100_

There was another sentence written below the abbreviated list of eliminations and danger zones, and it caught Graham's interest.

_We're taking down the school, are you in?_

Graham looked up at Kieron, who was watching him, seeing if he'd got the message. After just a few seconds, Graham nodded to him, wiping a few tears away from behind his glasses.

"A-Ah'm in," he spoke with a choked voice. "Deh'll pay foh kill' T'istan." Suddenly, there was another loud clang from the hole, followed by the sound of squeaky hinges, then a laugh from the gang leader.

"Oh yeah, this is what I'm talkin' about!" David called out.

"What is it, Dave?" Kieron asked, looking into the gaping hole, Juan standing behind him and Graham still by the door, unable to hear what was going on.

"Get ready to catch!" he replied. Kieron put his hands out just as a small red cylindrical shape flew up from out of the darkness. He grabbed the red stick, the letters TNT written down the side of it.

"Holy shit, dynamite?" Juan exclaimed, looking at the explosive.

"There's eight of them down here," David replied. "Someone was obviously looking out for us, this is exactly what we need for our plan."

* * *

Corey O'Donoghue (Male #14) woke up with a start.

'_Huh? What the--oh geez, I must've dropped off. I was awake for the announcements, wasn't I?_' he thought, sitting back up and brushing leaves and bugs off his shirt. He checked the map and saw the three crossed off danger zones, and the five crossed out students. '_Okay, good, I wasn't dreaming that part._' He looked at the watch on his wrist, the digits 06:33 staring back at him. Craning his head, he could see the four girls still sitting outside the diner, like they had been for the past few hours. Kirsty Nichols (Female #14) sat with her back to him, though he could still tell it was her; no one else had hair dyed pink and blue like that. Mallory Derwent (Female #4) was sitting nearby and drinking from a water bottle, Leah Smith (Female #18) was slowly (and disdainfully) eating a bread roll, and Imani Velasquez (Female #21) was standing up against the side of the diner, looking annoyed and staring at her piece of bread.

'_Is that girl ever _not_ annoyed?_' Corey thought to himself. Looking away from the group, he slowly unzipped his bag, keeping the noise down and glanced at his weapon that he plotted to use against them. A Colt M1911 was lying in his duffel bag and it had come with a bonus suppressor, which had pleased the boy when he'd first set eyes on it. It was absolutely _perfect_.

He'd been watching the girls carefully from his hiding place, listening in on them (not difficult considering the four of them apparently never learnt how to whisper), and most importantly, learning what their weapons were. Leah and Mallory were the biggest threats with the gun and grenades respectively, while Kirsty was a medium threat with that fancy sword of hers. And then there was Imani.

She was without a shadow of a doubt the bitchiest of the four that hung around the diner, even more so than the self-appointed head cheerleader, Mallory. And he hated her. '_But I have a gun and all she has to defend herself with is a stuffed toy. What a joke,_' Corey thought, having to restrain himself from laughing. '_She's the weakest, she's first to go,_' he thought. It was going to be so simple. He would bide his time until Imani was away from the others, shoot her without his gun alerting the others thanks to the silencer, and then he would repeat the process with the next in line until all four were dead. It was just a case of waiting, and he was prepared to wait for hours if needed. He only had to wait a couple of minutes though.

"These rolls suck, I'm going to get something out of the diner," he heard Imani announce. Corey grinned; the opportunity was being given to him on a silver platter. He watched carefully, seeing if she was going to get a weapon from the others, but she didn't, she just walked straight to the building with no one getting up to join her. As she entered the abandoned diner, he quietly walked through the bushes until the three girls were behind the building from his perspective, unable to see him as he walked out from the trees that had concealed his presence. There was an open window right in front of his position, and it was just begging to be climbed through.

'_Say your prayers, Imani,_' he thought, leaving his bag outside and shimmying through the gap as quietly as he could.

* * *

"Sardines? Ew, no," Imani muttered to herself, scrounging through the cupboards in the kitchen of the diner, making quite a lot of noise as she moved pots and pans about in search of a half-decent snack. "Did these guys never hear of a fridge?" she complained. She already had a tin of chicken soup, still inside its use-by-date, which surprised the girl. She ducked down and found a packet of dry noodles in a cupboard just then. "Never thought I'd see the day where I'm glad to eat these," she sighed, putting the packet on the counter with the soup.

A shiny reflective pan hung in front of Imani, and she used it to try and get a good look at her appearance, just to see how bedraggled she'd become. Her normally sleek jet black hair was frizzing up, her dark tanned skin was starting to get greasy, and her brown eyes were even bloodshot. '_God, I look a mess—who the hell is that?_'

Imani saw someone behind her in the reflection, and it wasn't one of the girls. It was Corey, simply known to her as 'that loner skater'. She also noticed the gun he was holding, slowly being brought up to get a perfect aim at her, Corey apparently not noticing she had seen him. '_Oh no you fucking don't!_' she thought. There was no way in Hell she was going to let that loser shoot her.

Imani spun round, pulled something out of her cardigan pocket and pointed it at the intruder. It took Corey a couple of seconds to register that she too was holding a gun. By that time, the bullet she'd fired had already entered his shoulder. And unlike his gun, hers didn't have a silencer.

Corey hollered out from the immediate pain, the impact in his left shoulder knocking him off balance and sending him falling back and on to the floor.

'_AGHHH!_ _Fuck, that bitch, she shot me! Where'd she get that damn gun from?!_' Corey screamed in his head as he dropped the Colt and brought his hand up to his throbbing shoulder, feeing the warmth of his blood as it spread from the wound over his arm and chest. There was a loud thumping sound as Mallory and Kirsty barged into the diner, holding a grenade and a katana respectively. Having heard the gunshot and his screams, they didn't waste any time in investigating what had just transpired.

"What the hell's happening?!" Mallory demanded, seeing Corey squirming on the kitchen floor and Imani holding the gun in her hand.

"This douchebag tried to kill me!" she shouted, pointing at the pistol lying on the floor by his hand, Corey still desperately trying to claw at it. Kirsty ran over and kicked it away before he could grab it and try shooting at them again.

"Get him out of here, we'll deal with him outside," Mallory said, walking over to grab his legs while Kirsty took his arms, causing him to yell out. "You okay, Imani? Did he get you?"

"No, I-I'm fine," Imani replied, though her blinking collar betrayed how fast her pulse was, having been just mere seconds from becoming the latest fatality. Mallory and Kirsty lifted Corey up, the male student hissing in pain.

'_No…! I had a perfect plan, where did I go wrong…?_' he thought as they carried him out of the door and into the clearing. Just mere minutes ago, he thought he had it made, he thought he could take them all out and go on to win. But thanks to Imani, his plan was completely ruined, his future in the Program now uncertain.

Imani meanwhile took a sigh of much needed relief, trying to calm herself down, and followed the three of them out, making a mental note to thank Leah as soon as possible for letting her swap weapons quarter of an hour ago.

* * *

It had been a while since Victoria Norton (Female #15) had decided on her course of action to try and dispose of as many weapons as possible, and it wasn't going as well as she'd hoped. Nearly seven hours in the game and the only weapon she had in her bag was her starting hatchet, not a very impressive collection at all. She hadn't even seen any gold boxes to get rid of the items they contained, though trying to find them was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

'_What I wouldn't give to run into somebody now, I can take their weapons off them then, if they don't kill me first,_' she thought, breathing heavily as the hatchet weighed her down. Carrying it around in the duffel bag was really aching, so she had to stop, take a break, and change shoulders on more than one occasion, which severely slowed her down. It didn't help that Victoria was one of the least athletic students either, being overweight and having weaker muscles than almost all the class. And if carrying the hatchet by itself was only just bearable, imagine what that _and_ other weapons (providing she actually found any) would do to her. '_Can you say sitting duck? I really didn't think this through at all, did I?_' Shaking her head, she trudged onwards towards the south of the island, thanking her lucky stars that J6 was not due to become a danger zone later that morning.

Suddenly, Victoria got her wish; she had run into someone, but not in the way she had hoped.

There were two bangs, and a couple of bright red splashes to go with them appeared on the front of Victoria's blouse. The force of the shots knocked her off her feet, the bag landing onto the dusty track beside her.

'_NO! I'm shot! And I never even got rid of the hatchet… why haven't I died yet?_'

"Whoever you are, stay away from me!" a female shouted at her, hidden from Victoria's view behind a cluster of bushes. Whoever it was, she knew the girl lying on the floor hadn't been killed. And she sounded more frightened than threatening.

'_Wait a minute, I know that voice. I can't have run into her, could I…?_' Victoria thought, struggling to sit up. "Caroline, is that you?" she tried to call out.

"Vicky?"

The girl in question, Caroline Easton (Female #5), emerged from out of the bushes, holding some kind of scoped gun in her trembling hands. Victoria was still wondering how she had survived being shot twice in the chest with what looked like a powerful gun. Then she noticed the canister with small red spheres attached to the top of the weapon.

'_She got me with a paintball gun, lucky me, 'cept it still bloody hurt!_' she thought, rubbing the sore area where she had been shot and getting the drying red paint over her fingers.

"Oh no, Vicky! I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was you!" Caroline apologized once she realized she had indeed shot her best friend and immediately dashed over to help her.

"Shoot first, ask questions later, is that how you're working?" Victoria wheezed, only semi-joking.

"I didn't know if it was someone who was going to kill me or not," Caroline defended, reaching down to pull Victoria up on her feet. "I hoped I could buy some time with this and then get as far away as possible before they could get me back."

"Well, you don't have to worry about me, you know I'm not going to be taking part in this _government-sanctioned bloodbath_," Victoria said as she got up, deliberately stressing those last few words for the soldiers listening in on them and watching their every move. They would most likely censor her words out before broadcasting, but Victoria couldn't care less.

Being openly against the military dictatorship of a government had really alienated Victoria from a lot of her peers, several students keeping their distance or even refusing to socialize with her. Many were worried that if she did something monumentally stupid one day and got herself killed, they may have been next in the firing line themselves just for being associated with her. Others didn't like to hang around with her because of the acting out she did after her father's death. All in all, Victoria could have counted all of her closest friends on just the one hand; Greg, Zach and the girl currently standing in front of her.

"What happened to you, Vicky? I thought you were moving to England," Caroline asked.

"So did I, but I didn't even make it onto the plane," Victoria sighed, recalling the horrific events at O'Hara airport, which sent shivers down her spine just thinking about it. "How's your insomnia?" she asked, quickly changing the subject before she could get too upset again.

"Not good, I couldn't sleep at all last night," Caroline replied.

"Don't you mean the night before last?" Victoria corrected her. "Last night was when we all woke up in that hell hole of a classroom."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, the night before last then," Caroline said. "I was so tired I fell asleep in the courtyard before we got on the bus. Well, until those two, David and… and… Duncan… poked me hard to wake me up." Victoria just nodded her head. It was hard to believe that one of those names now belonged to a corpse, killed almost seven hours ago.

"Nobody deserves to die in here, not even Duncan," Victoria said. "That's why I want to get rid of the weapons, hopefully I can slow the killings down."

"Get rid of the weapons?" Caroline looked at her, seriously wondering if the Program had driven her insane. "As in, actually get rid of them? Do you realize just how many there'll be in here? Forty-four weapons given to each of us, plus about twelve boxed weapons. It's a suicide mission if you ask me."

"I know, I know, but… in all honesty, Caroline, I really don't see myself winning," Victoria confessed. "Hell, I doubt I'll even last a full day. So I'm just going to make it my mission to piss everyone up top off while I still have the chance."

"If you're really going to go ahead with that plan, you can have this," Caroline offered, handing Victoria the paintball gun. "You can take this as well," she added on, reaching into her bag and pulling out another gun, a real working one this time; a Desert Eagle. Victoria gasped and took a couple of steps backwards. For a split second, she was genuinely worried that Caroline was about to shoot her. Caroline had other plans though, and threw it down by Victoria's feet.

"Where did you get that?" Victoria exclaimed, looking down at the semi-automatic pistol with her wide eyes. "I thought the paintball gun-"

"Yeah, I was given the paintball gun, but I found one of those gold boxes about ten, twenty minutes ago, and that was in it," Caroline explained, pointing at the firearm that lay by Victoria's feet, who right about now could hardly believe her luck. "I put the gun straight in my bag and tried to forget all about it. Like I'm going to use it anyway. I couldn't kill anyone, even if my life was at stake, you know?"

"I know, I just hope most of the class feel the same," Victoria said, picking the Desert Eagle up and placing it in her duffel bag, out of her sight and hopefully out of play in the very near future. "Five deaths though, doesn't exactly fill your heart with hope, does it?"

"I can only hope they were all suicides," Caroline sighed, though deep down she knew it wouldn't be the case. "Look, Vicky, I still want to make up for shooting you. I still feel terrible for doing it in the first place." she apologized once again.

"You've given me you weapons to dispose of, that's good enough," Victoria replied, subconsciously rubbing her chest again, the pain fortunately starting to diminish.

"Can I help you with what you're doing then? The whole 'removing weapons from play' idea?"

"But you just said-"

"I know what I just said, but do I look like winning material to you?" Caroline said. "I can't kill, I can barely run far without gasping for breath. I'm basically a Program redshirt."

"I would argue with you about it, but I know you'd just go out and do it anyway," Victoria said, chuckling when Caroline produced a sheepish grin. "Why'd you even need my permission anyway? If you want to help me out, help out."

"You sure you won't mind me tagging along?" Caroline asked.

"Of course I wouldn't mind," Victoria said, though she paused, thinking up what could possibly be a better idea. "Actually, I think it would be more productive if we split up and searched around different parts of the island, we can cover twice as much area at once," she said.

"Good idea," Caroline said, nodding. "Where are you going now?"

"I was on my way to the cliffs, then I'm going round towards the lighthouse after that," Victoria stated, pulling the map out of her back to show Caroline her planned route along the southerly coast.

"I'll go up to the northwest of the island and have a search around there then," Caroline decided, tracing a path out with her finger.

"There's going to be a couple of danger zones popping up there over the next few hours, watch where you'll be walking," Victoria warned.

"I'll be fine, don't worry about me," Caroline reassured her, giving the map back to Victoria, who put it back in her bag. "You'd better be careful yourself. If I hear on the announcement you got yourself killed, I'll be sure to kick your butt in the afterlife."

"Same to you," Victoria said, a slight giggle escaping her lips. "Well, no time like the present," she said, picking the bag up off the ground, nearly losing her balance as she looped the strap of the heavy bag over her left shoulder. "Things to do, weapons to find."

"Good luck, Vicky," Caroline said, giving her friend a quick hug.

"I'm going to need all the luck I can get," Victoria replied. "See you later."

"See you later." And with that, the two girls broke off the hug and went their separate ways, Victoria buoyed up by the brief meeting with Caroline, and Caroline happy to be helping Victoria out with her plan.

If they had known that neither of them would ever see each other again, maybe they wouldn't have felt so cheerful.

* * *

**End of Hour 7**

**Hours Remaining: 65  
Students Eliminated in Hour 7: None  
Students Remaining: 39**

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_A/N: First of all, I must apologize for the long time between chapters and for not reviewing, since I've been away on vacation. I probably also fail at trying to write down how Graham pronounces his words. I could've copped out and made him not talk, but that was too easy and I didn't want to portray him as being unable to communicate at all._


	13. Hour 8: Finders Keepers

**Hour 8: 07:00 – 07:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

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The three students strolled through the thick undergrowth as they passed through zone D6, creating a quiet rustling sound as leaves and branches were pushed aside, some sharp twigs nicking at their legs and ankles. One of the teenagers, the one currently leading the way as they searched for another of their number, was one of two female netball players who had been selected for the Program. The other two behind her were a member of the drama club and his partying girlfriend. And unbeknownst to the two girls, not only was the male student an amateur actor, he was also a murderer.

Deborah Rainer (Female #16), the girl walking out in front with a shotgun in her hands, had been somewhat relieved when she heard the contents of the announcement that had been broadcasted an hour previously. Jodie Holland (Female #10), the girl they were looking for, wasn't on the list of the recently slain, and despite the fact that six of their class of forty-five had now died, the news had buoyed Deborah up considerably.

On the flipside, one of her two companions, Isabel Callahan (Female #3) had gone through yet another crying spell when Yvonne's name came up second only after Duncan's. Nicholas Walsh (Male #22) had been quick to comfort Isabel right after the report, and even an hour afterwards, he was still whispering into Isabel's ear with his arm wrapped around her back. Whatever he was saying, it had definitely helped cheer her up. It had also made Deborah slightly jealous.

'_I should have been looking forward to doing that with Bruce..._' Deborah thought when she snuck a glance over her shoulder at the pair. '_Fucking Program._'

After methodically searching through all the buildings around Dante's Town and the docks to the north and finding no trace of the girl, Nicholas had suggested they move south west and look around the clinic. When they arrived, instead of finding Jodie, they'd discovered the corpse of Darrell Fischer (Male #7) lying near the entrance, lifelessly staring up at the ceiling with his chest shot to pieces. There didn't seem to be anybody else in the building, though it didn't make Deborah grip her shotgun any less tightly, nor did it calm Isabel down any. She was constantly whispering "we're gonna die" over and over, which definitely wasn't putting them at ease. Searching the clinic had proved to be, like the town and docks beforehand, a fruitless effort, though Darrell's bag did contain a substantial amount of medical supplies. After relieving him of the contents in his daypack, which Isabel objected to at first on the grounds they were effectively pillaging a corpse, they started making their way back in a westerly direction along the path to their next point of call; the diner.

The scenery along the path looked, well, beautiful to Deborah. The trail was surrounded by many leafy plants and trees with the occasional flower here and there. If she concentrated hard enough and ignored the firearm in her possession, she could just imagine that she was walking through a nature reserve and not what could be passed off as a battlefield. There hadn't been a single gunshot for a while now, and all she could hear was the sound of gravel crunching beneath her feet, birds chirping in the trees, and the occasional hushed whisper between the two students behind her. But then there was another noise, one that stuck out from the rest like a sore thumb.

"Hey, do you hear that?" Deborah whispered, stopping in the middle of the path and gesturing the others to keep their voices down. It was the sound of sobbing, barely audible, and it was coming from behind some bushes next to the track.

"It's definitely someone, you don't think it could be…?" Isabel pondered.

"Only one way to find out," Deborah said, hoping that if it was indeed Jodie, she was only crying from being in the Program and not from a serious injury. '_Please let it be her. Please let her be safe and unhurt,_' she prayed to herself as she started climbing through a gap in the thick vegetation. When she reached the other side, she saw the person hadn't run off, seemingly oblivious to what was going on around them. And when Deborah actually saw who it was, she nearly fired the shotgun up in the air in celebration.

"Jodie! Oh my God it _is_ you!" she cried out in sweet, sweet relief, then beckoned the other two to come and join her on the other side of the bush.

Jodie Holland (Female #10) didn't respond to her friend's cry at first, too lost in thought while she continued sniveling and held tightly onto her legs. To say Deborah was relieved that Jodie was still alive was an understatement.

Then when she approached her team mate, she saw the cuts, and her face fell.

There were three of them on Jodie's left upper arm with thin snake-like trickles of blood running down to her elbows. One of the thin gashes looked like it had been made just minutes ago, blood still slowly rising out of the cut in her flesh.

"Who attacked her?" Isabel gasped, having followed Deborah through the bushes and noticing the three lacerations for herself. Deborah could only sigh heavily, being possibly the only person on the island other than Jodie to know what really could have happened.

"I-I think she did, Isabel. I think she cut herself," she replied, looking at the grass on Jodie's left side where her right hand was. A scalpel with semi-dried blood on the blade was lying amongst the green blades, and Deborah hazarded a guess that it was Jodie's weapon, and that it had been used to inflict the cuts on herself. '_That's the worse thing to give to someone who's getting over self-harming,_' she thought, fearing the stress of being in the Program had caused Jodie to relapse back into it. She bent down to get a good look at Jodie, who seemed to finally acknowledge her presence.

"Deb?" she said, thinking she was hallucinating at first, then realizing the netball forward next to her was real and not a figment of her imagination. "Oh Deb… thank God it's you! I was so scared, I thought I was going to die before I'd see you again."

"Jodie, it's alright, we're here now, nothing's going to happen," Deborah comforted her friend. "What happened to you, why are you hiding in the bushes?" she asked as she pulled a roll of bandages out of the bag, hoping Jodie could fill them in on some of the events that had happened.

"I-I went to the clinic to hide out, but I hid in the bushes instead, 'cause there were people inside the building already," Jodie managed to say, her voice shaking. "Then a few hours later I heard gunfire and I could just see Toni running away through the bushes. Greg walked past some time later, carrying some kind of machine gun."

"Greg's got a machine gun?" Deborah asked as she wrapped Jodie's self-inflicted wounds with the white gauze, remembering Darrell's body in the clinic and the multiple gunshot wounds to his torso, putting two and two together. "No, Greg wouldn't kill someone… would he?"

"You'd think Rachel wouldn't, but I still saw her attacking Kieron," Isabel chimed in. "I even heard her telling him to die. I just don't get it…"

"The Program changes people, Isabel," Nicholas said. "People will do anything when their life is on the line. Even those you don't expect."

Deborah gave him a sour look to let him know he wasn't helping the situation. Finishing covering Jodie's wounds, she put an arm around her back and with Isabel's help, she got her back to her feet. "Nick, Isabel, thanks a lot for helping me look for Jodie," Deborah said. "Are you going to go your own way now?"

"No," Nicholas stated, earning glances from Deborah and Jodie. "I mean, I'd hoped we could all stay together, the four of us. It would be much safer in the long run, because we won't be such an easy target."

Truthfully, Deborah hoped that Nicholas had said yes. She just couldn't put her finger on it, but she just felt… weird with him hanging around. That and Isabel had just been plain annoying from the get go. She was trying to think of an excuse to go her own way alone with Jodie, when her team mate spoke on her behalf.

"He's got a point, it probably would be better if we all stuck together," Jodie agreed, definitely sounding better now she was in company she could trust. At least company she thought she could trust.

'_Guess that's that, they stay with us,_' Deborah thought, trying hard not to look disappointed. "Okay then, let's make a move and head off. Any ideas where we can go now?"

"There was the diner, there's also the mill down by the river," Nicholas suggested. "The mill looks more out of the way, could be fewer people around there?"

"Mill it is," Deborah said, climbing back through the bushes onto the path and waiting for the three others to join her. "Hey, Jodie, what did you do with that scalpel?" Deborah asked once all four students were back on the gravel path.

"Oh shoot! I didn't pick it up, it must be still on the ground," Jodie replied, looking back to the hedges and subconsciously rubbing the bandages on her arm.

"Don't worry about it, Jo," Deborah said, a sigh escaping her lips, glad that Jodie shouldn't be able to cut herself anymore. She'd have to warn Nicholas and Isabel to keep their weapons away from her as well, just to be on the safe side.

Meanwhile, Nicholas strolled a short distance behind the three girls, coming up with a plan. A plan involving the scalpel he'd picked up when no one was looking which was currently residing next to his jackknife in his bag.

* * *

_**Friday 11th April 2014**_

_Allison Shepherd never really understood why people got such a thrill from watching teenagers kill each other on national television. But when her friends, Yazmina Spencers and Emily Morgan from 3-B had invited her round to Lee's Battle Royale marathon, curiosity got the better of her and she agreed to tag along. So there she was, sitting on a camp bed with the pair of girls, their eyes glued to the screen at Lee Dawford's house as the 17__th__ Battle Royale played out before them and the other guests. Allison had to constantly tell herself that she was watching a horror movie and that the kids being butchered on-screen were just actors, the weapons were just props and the blood was fake, just so she didn't lose it and run screaming out of the living room._

'How are you guys able to stomach this?_' Allison wondered. Everyone had cheered when Chase Kovlowsky (Male #9) had his throat slit by Tabitha Grenz (Female #5), or when Shirley Wyatt (Female #23) was shot in the back by Olivia Moss (Female #16). Allison had winced and covered her eyes, asking her friends when that particular elimination was over._

_It was coming up to ten in the morning, and if it was any other Friday, many of the teenagers (those that didn't skip classes periodically, anyway) in the Dawford household would have been in school. Hardly anyone watching the bloody entertainment seemed bothered that they were missing lessons though. Hell, a couple of the teachers took the day off to watch the Battle Royale themselves due to the low turnout in their classes._

"_Allison, you done with that booklet?" Emily asked, sounding impatient._

"_Not yet, gimme just a few more minutes," Allison replied. Emily was referring to the information booklets that Melissa had bought from the local betting office and had shared them out for the others to read through. Allison was holding one in her hands and was having a quick flick through to try and take her mind off the violence on the television in front of her. The booklets all contained a map of the town the fighting was taking place in, student profiles, student lists to cross out names of the dead and other things. She was having a browse through the bios and one particular profile stuck out._

_Marcy Schiffner, better known to the betting public as the twentieth female student of the 17__th__ Battke Royale, was stated as being the daughter of a CEO and was thus quite a wealthy individual. It struck a chord with Allison, who was in similar circumstances herself. Her father was involved in the government, so though her family was nowhere near as rich as Marcy's, it was still wealthier than everyone else's in her class. The profile also said that she didn't have many allies ('_must be referring to friends,_' Allison guessed), if any at all, and her odds were quite low. As if by chance, she only had to wait a few minutes for Marcy to make her debut._

'There she is,_' Allison thought, watching the girl walk along the street, carrying a sword in her hand and looking all around the area with a look of determination plastered on her face. For someone who was considered to be a weak contender, she looked remarkably confident. Marcy swiftly entered a building and discovered two boys who were hiding there; Mathew Biggins (Male #2) and Brennan Fleetwood (Male #6), best of friends._

"Oh, what are you two common folk doing here?"_ she sneered, her voice dripping with malice as she raised her sword, looking to turn the best of friends into the best of victims._

'What did she just say?!_' Allison thought in bewilderment. '_Common folk?_' At once, several of the people in the room hurled abuse at the girl on TV, someone even crying out "rich bitch!" at her._

_Even though the insults and even a few threats weren't directed at her, Allison still felt incredibly hurt by the comments she heard. '_They're making it sound like all wealthy people are like her, that-that's not true!_' Allison angrily thought, tears beginning to well up. On the screen, Mathew and Brennan could only stare at the newcomer, looking petrified as they stared death in the face._

"Marcy, don't do this! We don't want to attack you!"_ Brennan spoke, though his pleas fell on deaf ears._

"Shut up! I'm better than you two are,"_ Marcy screamed in return. _"I'm going to win this, you don't deserve to!"_ she rushing at the two surprised males, and waved her sword about, hoping to stab, slice or even decapitate the males. Sadly for her and luckily for the boys, she didn't account for the pistol that was tucked in Mathew's pants. He quickly reached for it and a single shot rang out, the participant count dropping to thirty-eight as Marcy collapsed to the floor with a single bullet to the chest._

_The room immediately erupted in cheers and people leapt to their feet. Allison immediately leapt up as well, but instead dashed to the front door, sobbing her eyes out and her stomach preparing to purge, her exit unnoticed by the majority of the guests who were happy to see the 'rich bitch' on TV gone for good._

_It was sunny out, and after being cooped up in the dark living room for so long, Allison was momentarily blinded, and so had no idea where she was vomiting. It took a while for her eyes to get accustomed to the brightness, at which point she found she'd brought her meager 'breakfast' up over the flower bed in Lee's front yard, in full view of Yvonne Thompson (who quietly went "eww") and her brother Shawn (who laughed, but got punched in the arm by his sister for doing so) as they made their way inside._

'I-I'm not like her! I'm not spoilt, I don't hate anyone,_' Allison told herself as she finished retching. '_They weren't calling me those things, it was all directed at Marcy. Yeah, just her, not me._' She looked back to the front door, still able to hear the cheers from outside. Shaking her head and exhaling loudly, she started to head back home to wash up, pick up her bag and salvage as much of the school day as possible so as to take her mind off the events that unfolded during the last few minutes. One thing was for certain; she would never be like Marcy Schiffner._

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_

Being nice and genuinely caring for other people, you would think Allison Shepherd (Female #17) had quite a lot of friends. She didn't, and the main reason for that was because of her family's riches. Even though she had a very friendly disposition, the difference in wealth between her and her classmates still drove a wedge between them. Though it hadn't happened yet, Allison's greatest fear was being called, even being thought of, as a stereotypical rich kid. Spoilt rotten, selfish and thinking they were superior to everyone all round them. Much like the late Marcy Schiffner.

"It's not easy being rich," Allison muttered as she wandered around the southern part of the island, gazing at the rocks all around her. "Olivier, where did you go?" she asked.

Olivier Dumont (Male #6) was one of Allison's few friends in her class, and thus on the island, who didn't care about her wealthy status, along with Natalie Ellis (Female #6) and Samantha Barker (Female #1). Altogether, they were the people who didn't quite 'fit in' with the rest of their classmates.

Olivier was relatively new to the school, though Allison had successfully made him feel more at home, especially with her use of French granting her a thing in common with him. Natalie was the de facto genius of the class, often referred to as the 'ass-kisser', and there were even rumors going around that she had a crush on one of the teachers (though Allison wasn't entirely sure herself, the rumors were completely untrue). And then Samantha hung out with teenage delinquents Vance Petrovic (Male #15) and Corey O'Donoghue (Male #14) a lot of the time. It was something that Allison admittedly frowned upon, but she guessed Sam had a crush on one of them.

Allison's social life was not only complicated by her family's wealth, but also by the intervention of her mother as well. Linda Shepherd would often bar her daughter from going out of a night, even with her friends. Whether it was the movies, a club or even a birthday party, Allison was not allowed to leave the house. It may have seemed cruel, but there was a very good reason for the strict measures.

When Allison was only ten, her older sister, Tiffany, had been murdered in the middle of a store robbery while running an errand for the family. The death of her eldest daughter had hit them all hard, especially Linda, who had made it her life mission not to let Allison suffer the same fate. Sure, it had played a part in Allison's social life being stifled, and she had to resort to sneaking out on a fair few occasions when she wanted to be with her friends, but she knew her mother only wanted her to be safe.

'_But at what cost, mom?_' she thought, recalling the incident on the coach. Her mother's panicked voice, the gunshots. No doubt Linda found out her daughter was going to be in the Battle Royale and with her protective nature, she had tried to warn her. All it had done in the end was get herself killed instead.

"At least you won't have to watch me die here, mom," Allison said. She knew she didn't have it in her to win, she didn't even want to check her weapon, too scared to do so. There were several other people who had a better chance of winning than she did anyway.

'_Yeah, that makes me a lot different from Marcy fucking Schiffner,_' she thought, feeling angry again. "I am nothing like her. I may be from a rich background but I am not a bitch like she was!" she hollered out, knowing full well the microphone on her collar would pick her voice up no problem at all. The cameras dotted around were broadcasting everything back to the school for the soldiers to either ignore or transmit onwards to the American public. "Just because I may be wealthy, it doesn't mean I'm automatically entitled to win this! If I do, well, I'm just plain lucky, aren't I? If I don't, well good luck to whoever does."

That would do. Her madman-like ranting was echoing off the rocks around her and would probably travel a considerable distance, possibly even attracting unwanted attention from wannabe murderers eager for an easy kill. Even though she was certain she would die on the island, she wasn't planning on doing so anytime soon.

'_Have to get out of here,_' she thought, following the coast to the west and hoping to run into Olivier or one of her other friends as soon as possible.

* * *

**End of Hour 8**

**Hours Remaining: 64  
Students Eliminated in Hour 8: None  
Students Remaining: 39**

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_A/N: And we now have all the female students accounted for. Just five males to introduce and then everyone'__s had their time in the spotlight.  
But wow, I had to completely rewrite the situation with Allison. She was originally going to be a redshirt and die on her debut, but then I wanted to add a story to her. Originally, she was going to be a diabetic, but changed it to a rich girl who just wanted to break the stereotype and try to fit in._


	14. Hour 9: Take a Break

**Hour 9: 08:00 – 08:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13th June 2014**

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If you'd seen Taro Yamada just two hours ago, you would have seen he was very impressed with how this month's Program was going. With five deaths in the first six hour period, of which two were in the hour leading up to his first report, the signs had been pointing to the game being a very active one indeed. But when six o'clock came, the slayings just inexplicably ground to a halt, and with the time now 08:10, a whole 143 minutes since the last death (occurring at 05:47), Taro was quickly becoming irritated. The altercation between Corey O'Donoghue (Male #14) and Imani Velasquez (Female #21) had been the closest to providing him with an elimination, but both students were still alive, which was no good to him at all. To add to his frustration, a second gold box had gone. Sure, he had encouraged the students to find those boxes, but when the weapon from that particular box was given to Victoria Norton (Female #15), who was only going to dispose of it, it was displeasing to say the least.

'_Right about now I wish she had boarded that plane and got out of our lives for good,_' Taro thought, massaging his temples to try and ease the headache that was starting to form. Staying up for so long, paired with the slowdown in the game, only served to make him exceptionally weary, cranky, and gave him the migraine from hell.

The sound of tinkering china brought him out of his thoughts, and looking up from the papers, he saw a fresh cup of coffee had been placed on the desk by his associate, who had just that minute entered the room. "Good morning, Hanako, how was your nap?" he asked.

"Good morning, Kenta," Hanako replied, smiling gently at the surprised look Taro gave her. "What's wrong? I'm still not allowed to call you by your real name? You know as well as I do that we only use our assumed names in front of the students and for official purposes."

"Sorry, Hiromi, I'm tired, got a headache. Ergo, I'm not thinking properly," 'Taro' sighed, staring at the hot beverage in front of him, what would be his fourth coffee since midnight should he choose to down it. "Was that for me? I'm due for a sleep soon so I'm wide awake for the report this evening," he looked back up at the woman and a sly smirk crossed his lips. "You look like you could do with the coffee though, you look a mess."

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," 'Hanako' light-heartedly retorted, picking the drink up and taking a few sips. "Ah, that's good stuff, and going back to your earlier question, I had a good nap," she said as the caffeine began to work its way around her system, firing her synapses up and ridding her body of any residual tiredness. "Have there been any developments, any potential meet-ups while I was asleep so I can stay in the loop?" she asked, looking round to the technicians behind her. Some were picking out bits of video and audio recording for national broadcast, while others were resting, finding themselves unoccupied due to the now-quiet nature of the game.

"Everything of interest that's happened since my report has already been written down," Taro replied, sweeping a hand over the sheets littering his desk, only a couple covered by his neat handwriting, which dismayed Hanako. "I know what you're thinking, not a lot happened. No post-report eliminations, just a few injuries," Taro said as he stood up from his seat, noticing her expression.

"Nobody eliminated since six? Well that _is_ disappointing, I have to admit," she said, taking more sips of coffee in between her talking.

"It is, isn't it?" Taro agreed with her. "Though from the looks of things, Miss Steine seems to be heading in the direction of Mr. Newman and Mr. Sharpe," he informed, pointing to the large electronic map, a pink circle with the number nineteen in it moving to intercept two blue circles, numbered twelve and eighteen, in the north-west of the isle. "She's already... excuse me..." Taro paused, covering his mouth as he yawned noisily, a clear indicator he wasn't going to last much longer. "She's already got one kill under her belt, so it should be interesting to see what happens next with her."

"I'll be keeping an eye on that, you go rest," Hanako said, practically shooing Taro out, before sitting down in Taro's former seat and started sorting through the papers. Before Taro could walk out the door, Hanako turned to face him and flashed him a smile. "Have a good sleep, Taro."

"Thank you, I will," Taro replied, smiling back to his female associate. "I'll just check up on Mr. Irving before I head off, then I'll see you around four in the afternoon." He then headed out the room to get a good day's sleep, leaving Hanako to monitor the current situation with the help of the numerous soldiers and technicians in the room.

* * *

Ursula Steine (Female #19) was unaware that the two instructors had just been having a brief discussion about her, but even if she had known, she would have been too lost in her thoughts to care one bit.

"_Thanks a lot for the compass, Ursula, you're a lifesaver."_ The phrase kept repeating itself in her mind like a stuck record playing the same verse over and over, and had been for quite some time as she slowly traipsed north-west from zone D3 into zone C2. They were the last words that Tristan Armstrong (Male #1) said to her. In fact, they were the last words he ever spoke, before she killed him.

There was no way she could disguise her actions. It wasn't self defense, it wasn't even manslaughter, it was murder, plain and simple. Even if the Program had made it legal and she would never get punished for it, she had still robbed another person of his life.

'_And for what? So that I don't die myself, that's why,_' she thought, able to temporarily stop the train of thoughts and holding back the tide of overwhelming guilt. Hell, right at that moment she couldn't decide if she was glad to kill him or felt like dirt for it. '_I don't want to die, I-I_ can't_ die!_'

Ursula had previously suffered from thanatophobia: that is to say she had been extremely scared of dying. When her mother, aunt and cousin had all lost their lives in a terrible car crash six years ago, the very thought of losing her own life petrified her. Right after the accident, she flatly refused to travel in a car in case it crashed, ran off the road or, in the worst case scenario, exploded into a fireball. It was so bad she even refused to leave the house for fear of something else coming along and killing her. Her father and uncle, who were both raising her and her brothers, were at first extremely sad to see Ursula like that, but they became worried when it persisted for well over a year, and became convinced she needed help. So, through psychiatrist visits and grief counseling, she was really getting over her phobia. Over the next couple of years, she found herself able to ride in a car, leave the house, even climb trees – something she was well known for – without fear of dropping dead.

And then she was dragged into the Program. Sure, she had heard of it before and what it entailed, and as a result, she never watched it, nor did she ever want to hear about any of the gory details. But she was in it, and knowing that people had already died, were dying and were going to die, it just brought her fear back. And when you're scared of losing your life, you tend to do drastic things. Tristan found that out the hard way. '_So what do I do next? Do I just hide and hope for the best, or do I… do I have to kill again?_'

Ursula was busy mulling the ideas over in her head, and then as she rounded a corner on the path leading to the peninsula, she nearly ran smack into two boys.

True to Taro's words, she had been approaching Jonathan Newman (Male #12) and Franklin Sharpe (Male #18). She didn't notice their faces though at first, what really grabbed her attention was the pistol currently clutched in Franklin's hand, who'd pointed it up at her face out of instinct. Ursula reacted by screaming and ducking down onto the dirt path, something that the two boys wouldn't have expected out of the tomboy.

"For the love of God, don't shoot!" she yelled, feeling her heart pound in her chest as she automatically put her hands up to let them know she was unarmed and hardly a danger to them in her current state. The logical response would have been to run away, but her legs were paralyzed from fear, immobile like the tree trunks she loved climbing up.

"Ursula? What are you doing here?" Jonathan asked. Even though he wasn't expecting to see anybody else around the small headland, it was still a pointless question considering there were dozens of students milling around on the island-come-battlefield like them.

"What do you mean 'what am I doing here'?," Ursula replied, sounding annoyed at being thought of as a trespasser. "I'm just minding my own business. And point that thing somewhere else, please," she directed at Franklin, pointing a finger at the firearm that was still being pointed at her.

"Okay, okay," Franklin complied, sticking the barrel of the gun in his back pocket. "Gee, you look terrible, are you okay?" he asked. Had Ursula had a mirror to look at herself (an action she thought of as too girly for her), she would have seen what he was getting at. Her clothes were creased from being in her tree for a long time, stained green and brown from scraping against bark and leaves. Her skin also had a few cuts and nicks from scratching against twigs, and there was even a leaf stuck in her short brown hair. There were, fortunately for her, no blood splatters on her person however.

"No… I mean yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine," Ursula said as she look a quick glimpse down herself. "Sorry, I'm just stressed, you know?" Stressed was a massive understatement. What with her current situation, being completely unprepared for the run in with the two boys and trying to figure out what to do next, it was more akin to having a nervous breakdown. '_I need to do something,_' Ursula desperately thought. '_I-I can't kill them, I can't bring myself to do it and I'm outnumbered anyway,_' she thought, still eyeing the gun poking out the back of his shorts.

"So what did you get?" Jonathan asked out of curiosity, derailing Ursula's train of thought, blissfully unaware the girl in front of him had just that second spared his life. Ursula didn't react at first, but then she slowly opened her bag up and pulled out the unloaded crossbow to show the boys, making sure the machete was out of view, which it was, covered by her map, rolls and eight remaining bolts. She didn't want any awkward questions being asked, worried that if they found out she had killed someone, Franklin's gun would be losing a bullet and she'd be gaining one between the eyes.

"Decent weapon you got there, a lot better than what I got anyway," Jonathan said, showing her his calculator with an embarrassed grin. Franklin didn't seem to be paying any attention, standing with his side turned to her and appeared to be deep in thought.

"Wow… that has got to be rigged. You of all people getting a calculator," she said, having to stifle a genuine laugh, which annoyed Jonathan slightly, but it quickly passed. Neither he nor Franklin seemed to have seen the machete, which was obviously a good thing.

"You think mine was rigged? Franklin got a mallet, maybe they found out about the outdoors course he-" Jonathan saw Ursula's shocked expression, realizing how bad it sounded. "No, no, we didn't kill anyone, we found the gun in a gold box," he answered. "Honestly. We wouldn't kill anyone."

Ursula slowly nodded, believing him. '_I could have said that about the machete. Too late for that now,_' she thought.

"Hey, Ursula, I was thinking," Franklin finally said, looking round to her. "Do you want to join up with us? Going off by yourself is only going to get you killed."

"I've managed to survive just fine all this time by myself," Ursula replied, looking skeptically at him. "Why do you think I'm just going to go off and die?" She wasn't trying to defy him, she was genuinely curious about his reasons.

"You know how someone splits up from the main group in one of those slasher movies? They always, and I mean _always_, get killed next," Franklin said, Jonathan rolling his eyes in response, though his friend didn't seem to notice this.

"Uh… Franklin, movie logic doesn't always work in real life," Ursula countered, but the idea of her running off and immediately finding herself with an axe in the head, or a knife through the chest, it really didn't appeal to her one bit.

"Whatever, I just wanted to help," he replied, shrugging his shoulders. "That said, you want to join us or still go your own way?"

"Hmm… I'll have to think about it quick," Ursula said, closing her eyes to concentrate. '_Jonathan's friendly enough, and he's a genius, he's smart enough to possibly find a way out of here!_' she thought. _'On the other hand… Franklin… he's a horror movie fanatic for crying out loud! But Jonathan's still alive…_'

"Well?" Jonathan asked, earning a frown from Franklin for his impatience.

"Sure, I'll join you guys," Ursula replied, feeling she could trust the pair with her life, her wish to run away starting to diminish. Little did Jonathan and Franklin know that they would regret her tagging along with them.

As would Ursula.

* * *

Zachary Reilly (Male #16) was still in a daze. It had been nearly three hours since the first announcement, three hours since he'd heard that five more students had been killed. One of them was one of his best friends.

'_This is all just a bad dream, yeah, it's only a nightmare,_' he thought as he wandered around the north-west of the island, his clothes still bearing the dried dark brown bloodstains from when Duncan Marshall's (Student A) throat had been blown out right in front of him. '_You're not in the Program and Darrell is still alive. Come on, pinch yourself, it won't hurt._' And so Zach did so, gasping out in pain for his trouble. '_Oww… so much for that. Ugh, why didn't you wait for me, man?_'

There actually was a valid reason why Darrell Fischer (Male #7) hadn't waited for him; the amount of time separating them. Eighteen minutes passed between their departures, ample time for other students in between to pick any of the earlier ones off. Darrell was also easily scared, especially with no one to turn to, and so it was just too long for him to be waiting for someone. By the time Zach got outside, there was no sign of him. Victoria Norton (Female #15) had left the school just seconds before he did, and despite being a good friend of hers, Zach had stupidly run off to seek Darrell, leaving her behind. Six hours he had spent searching, and then at six o'clock he found out it was all in vain.

"So what do I do now?" he asked himself as he walked through the forest, following what looked like a path that had been carved by hand. Judging from the still-green centers of the clean-cut wooden limbs, it must've been made very recently. As he continued the trek, he continued thinking, hoping he could come up with a new strategy after his old one had died with Darrell.

There was always trying to find the only other games club member left on the island, Lee Dawford (Male #5), but judging from his worryingly enthusiastic reaction when he left the classroom at the start, he wasn't so keen on that idea. One of the five deaths, maybe even Darrell's, could have been down to Lee, though Zach just didn't want to to believe that.

He wasn't deluding himself; he knew there was evil in the world; how could a government that ordered around forty students to kill each other on an island each month be anything but sick and twisted? But murderers in his own class? People he had known for years on a near-personal level? Zach was still trying to get his head around that.

'_Maybe they were all accidents, or, or maybe suicides,_' he optimistically thought. Okay, maybe it wasn't the most optimistic thing to think, but it sure beat thinking that they had all been murdered in cold blood, especially if by a friend of his. It was true, he was an optimist, always striving to look on the positive, the bright side of things. Every cloud has a silver lining, that was his mentality. '_Though what's the silver lining in this situation? Escaping? Is that even possible? Yeah, anything's possible._'

And so Zachary continued to walk along the path through the pine forest, trying to decide if it was worth looking for Lee, or if it would be better to play it safe and try something else. '_Victoria's still alive, wonder what she's up to,' _he came up with.

He was so deep in thought that he didn't see the body until he stepped on its leg.

Zach looked down after nearly tripping over what he thought was an exposed tree root, and saw the corpse lying face down in a pile of leaves, a small pool of dried blood around its head. Zach jumped back and covered his mouth (and nose, the stench was already overpowering) in shock, trying hard to draw his eyes away from the gruesome sight, but finding himself unable to do so. The body was definitely a male, only two of whom had been confirmed as being killed. And if it wasn't Darrell...

"Oh god, Tristan."

The first person to leave the school and the last name to be read out on the list. Tristan Armstrong (Male #1) had been in all honestly an alright guy. He took some interest in the games club even though he wasn't a member, he also had a deaf brother and hung out with Graham MacLeod (Male #11) a lot, that much Zach knew.

And now he was splayed out dead in front of him, his skin unnaturally pale from blood draining away from his skin. It was bad enough that he'd stumbled across his body, but it was something else about the scene that really shocked him to the core. Two arrows or something similar were sticking out of his body. One dug into the back of his shoulder, the other had gone straight through the back of his head, the tip just sticking out his ruined eyeball. From how those arrows had entered from behind, Zach had already deduced that it was neither suicide nor an accident, unless Tristan was secretly a contortionist - highly unlikely. His 'no murder' theory was shattered, much like Tristan's skull was.

Zach was trying to come to terms with the fact that at least one person in his class actually was a murderer. Just seconds later, he had to deal with something else.

There was a rustling sound and someone walked out from behind some trees right in front of him. Zachary quickly glanced back up, quite surprised, seeing a pale face marked with smudged blue eye shadow, purple lips and shrouded by dyed black hair. "Oh, R-Rachel?"

Rachel Barry (Female #2) was standing before him, only Tristan's body separating the two students. Zach, and nearly everyone else remembered her departure from the classroom (with the exception of Samantha, William and the now-late Tristan, who'd all left beforehand), with her mad grin and demented laughter, which was completely out of character. Everyone witnessing believed she'd lost her mind and was a possible danger. But not Zach.

'_No, this is Rachel Barry for God's sake! This is the girl who's helped me out with my math homework several times, there's no way she can be a killer!_' Zach thought, completely unconvinced that Rachel could have changed so quickly. Hell, he even believed her odd display was all an act to put people off from trying to kill her. Though if he'd met Kieron or Isabel, they would have begged to differ.

She looked calm, something that Zachary admittedly found strange but chose to ignore, and was holding an aluminum baseball bat in her hands. She glanced down at the body of Tristan and looked back up to Zach, staring him square in the eye. "Did you do this?" she asked, though the way she'd raised her voice, it sounded more like an interrogation than just a simple question. "Did you kill him?"

"N-no, it wasn't me, I swear," Zach stammered. "I would never kill anyone. Besides, I only have this." He lifted up the right side of his blood-splattered varsity jacket and showed Rachel the small sickle that he had tucked into the side of his pants, the tapering curved blade sticking outwards so it couldn't cut at or stab into his midsection. He'd looked down at his weapon as he showed Rachel, missing a small grin that had formed on her face when her eyes laid sight on the sickle. Zach turned back round to face her, and his eyes immediately widened in shock when he saw what Rachel was trying to pull off.

The aluminum bat, resting in Rachel's hands just seconds ago, was now in mid-swing, aiming right at the left side of his head. Zach instinctively raised his arm up to protect himself, the bat slamming into his forearm, a metal clang clearly audible as the two made contact with each other, which was followed instantly by a sickening crack. Zach immediately howled out in pain, hot tears started streaming out his eyes as he came to the realization that his arm (specifically his left ulna) was fractured. Though if he'd stayed as he was, there was every likelihood his head would have been knocked clean off his shoulders.

Rachel mentally cursed; Zach had turned to face her sooner than she had expected him to, meaning to strike him down before he knew what was happening. '_Ah well, if at first you don't succeed._'She raised the bat again, preparing to strike him down from above. Zach only just managed to jump backwards, the bat swishing by his face and missing him by mere inches. The swing followed through though, and the next thing Zach knew, Tristan's head had caved in from the blow with skull fragments and, more disgustingly, brain matter spraying over the place.

"Jesus Christ, Rachel! What the hell are you doing?!" he yelled out, his arm giving him a great deal of pain.

"I'm doing what we're supposed to be doing!" she screamed back at him, swishing the bat around wildly, knocking a few branches away and snapping twigs. "We have to kill to go home, so just stay put and let me kill you!"

"Rachel, this isn't like you!" he hollered back, a vain attempt to get through to her. "Think about what you're doing!" She refused to listen to him, letting the bat do the replying for her. It came round again and just grazed the top of his head as he ducked out of the way, too close for comfort.

'_It's no use, I have to get away from her,_' he thought. Rachel suddenly struck a low branch and the bat bounced back, throwing her off balance and she ended up dropping the bat behind her. It was the perfect chance for Zach to turn around and sprint the way he came, clutching his throbbing arm. He was hoping, praying even, that Rachel would be too preoccupied in getting her weapon back to notice him retreat.

"Hey! Come back here you coward!" she shouted at him. She'd seen him, unfortunately, but luckily for Zach, he had a head start and a speed advantage over her. All he could do right about now was run for his life, and pray that Rachel couldn't catch up to him. That, and hope to God that her, and whoever killed Tristan, were the only ones playing this deadly game.

And all Hanako Yamada could do was watch as another hour rolled by without any eliminations.

* * *

**End of Hour 9**

**Hours Remaining: 63  
Students Eliminated in Hour 9: None  
Students Remaining: 39**

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* * *

**

_A/N: Yes, I know, another chapter just dedicated to character development. Only four students left to properly introduce now, three of them will be making their long awaited debuts next chapter._


	15. Hour 10: Running into Danger

**Hour 10: 09:00 – 09:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

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* * *

**

Ever since the chance, yet terrifying, encounter with the waterlogged remains of Francesca Young (Female #22) at just before five in the morning, the pairing of Arthur Turner (Male #20) and Mark Turner (Male #21) had constantly been on the move, and constantly running into people they didn't want to meet given their current circumstances.

Around 06:20, a student hidden behind some bushes had fired a volley of shots at them. Fortunately for the two brothers (but unfortunately for Gregory Higgins (Male #8), the student firing the Uzi at them), every single bullet missed or struck trees standing between the two parties. Arthur fired a warning shot in return, buying him and his bro enough time to get away before Greg could resume with the rapid-fire gunshots.

Then just half an hour later, the brothers ran across Deborah Rainer (Female #16) and Isabel Callahan (Female #3) standing in the middle of the road (though Nicholas Walsh (Male #22) was also in the vicinity, taking a bathroom break in the bushes out of everyone's sight). With a shotgun in Deborah's hands, Mark and Arthur decided not to risk approaching them and instead made their way through the trees and fields, keeping off the paths until they reached their destination: the docks.

Mark glanced round the place and felt his heart sink at the state it was in. The lone warehouse had doors, windows and even a whole section of its roof missing, jetties simply consisted of broken planks of wood supported just above the water by rotting timber posts, and there wasn't even a single boat in sight, except for one lazily cruising past that had a couple soldiers at the controls and a gunman sitting out back, patrolling the waters like ravenous sharks. '_These bigwigs seriously aren't taking any chances,_' Mark thought as he watched the boat disappear from view behind the warehouse.

Things were going badly; he'd lost his weapon (not that it was any use to start with) and he'd already come face to what was left of a face with someone's body. Despite that, there was a glimmer of hope though; the Walther PPK/E that his brother had proved to be great at warding other people off, and if the worst came to the worst, well, it could kill someone quite easily (in self defense, of course). Arthur had already read the instruction manual and digested all the important information, so he knew how to properly operate the firearm.

'_But what if he gets himself killed? What if someone kills Arthur and I need to defend myself?_' Mark suddenly thought. Someone could just come along with their weapon, put Arthur out the competition, and Mark would have no way of properly using the gun for his own protection. '_Sounds like a promotion. Kill Arthur, kill Mark free,_' he grimly thought. He had tried to read the manual, but to him, the writing was all just a jumble of letters that made no sense.

Mark had dyslexia. Though he hadn't been diagnosed with it until the age of eight, it was the reason why he had started school a year later (and in a roundabout way, the reason he was in this month's Program). Even then, he was still struggling in classes, as there had been no provisions or special needs classes to help him with his condition. Then, a year ago, Arthur was brought up into his brother's grade and began to outperform him. To Mark, it was the ultimate humiliation, being showed up by someone over a year younger. Humiliation turned to frustration, and frustration turned to bottled up anger, leading to several outbursts at school and landing him in trouble more often than not.

'_I guess I'll have to get a hands on with this gun,_' Mark pondered, glancing down at the pistol that had been virtually glued to his younger sibling's hand for the past few hours. "Hey, bro, can I borrow the gun for a bit?" he asked.

"I feel more comfortable holding it myself, sorry," Arthur replied.

"Not even for just a few minutes? I wan-"

"What's the point of that?" Arthur interrupted before Mark could give his reason. "I just told you, I don't feel safe without it."

"Well fine, be that way," Mark said, starting to sound irritated, the anger starting to bubble up to the surface. "Be the selfish dick you are."

"I'm not being selfish!" Arthur shot back.

"Yes you are! You have since the day you got moved up to my grade!" he shouted in return. "Seriously, can't you even trust your own brother?" Arthur just looked at Mark, finding himself unable to answer that question.

Obviously, the reply Mark wanted was yes, but Arthur was starting to get the feeling that he couldn't trust him at all. Even when Mark was in the hold of one of his mood swings, he had never been as angry as this before, especially towards his brother. The way things were going, Arthur was worried that if Mark was pissed off enough, he would hurt, maybe even kill him, something the higher-ups wanted to see happen.

Arthur's hesitation to say anything however was just as bad as answering with no.

"Oh, I get it, so you _don't_ trust me," Mark practically snarled at him, feeling both hurt and angry, the latter emotion growing with each passing second.

"Not with the way you've been acting lately!" Arthur finally admitted. "If I give you this gun, what's stopping you from blowing my head off if you get pissed off enough, huh?"

"I'm your brother for fuck's sake!" Mark cried out. "How can you say that about me?"

"I don't care if you're my brother or not, you're still acting way out of line!" Arthur had said too much, and Mark finally snapped, unable to control himself.

Arthur suddenly felt Mark's fist collide with his jaw. He cried out in pain, his head jerking backwards and his glasses bouncing up off the bridge of his nose. He put a hand over where he was hit, and looked at Mark gently rubbing his knuckles.

"Mark, what the hell are you doing?" Arthur yelled.

"Shut the fuck up!" was all Mark replied with, pounding his fist into his brother's chest. Arthur cried out and coughed, utterly winded as he was forced backwards. He quickly glanced behind him, and saw he was standing only a couple of feet from the water's edge. Another strong punch and there was a chance he would fall backwards into the water, which was technically out of bounds, and so it would activate his collar. '_Fucking hypocrite, he tells me to trust him and now he's trying to kill me,_" Arthur angrily thought, his eyes narrowing to slits.

Mark brought his fist back, ready to strike Arthur a third and possibly final time round. Arthur acted quick, and without thinking, he raised his right hand.

_BANG!_

Instead of following through with the punch, Mark staggered back a few paces, his glasses falling to the cobbled floor. It took a moment for Arthur to register what had just occurred in those last couple of seconds.

He'd fired the gun again. At Mark's face.

"Shit…" Arthur whispered, dropping the gun to the floor as his arm fell to his side. Mark was still on his feet, his head pointing down, so he was still very much alive at least. "Oh shit… Mark… a-are you okay?"

Mark craned his head upwards, showing him a bloody scar on his left cheek where the bullet had grazed past, stripping a chunk of skin off. Mark couldn't be any luckier (bar not being in the Program to start with); a fraction to Arthur's left and the bullet could have been fatal instead of slightly disfiguring.

Mark seethed and glared at his brother, clenching and unclenching his fists as blood dripped down his face. Arthur was expecting his brother to charge at him like a furious bull and throw him into the water. Instead, Mark turned on his heel and sprinted away.

"Mark? _MARK!_" Arthur called out. Mark didn't even turn around, unable to hear him, or ignoring his calls. Soon, he was out of sight, disappearing behind a wall as he ran back the way the pair had come from.

Arthur stopped shouting and just stood there dumfounded as tears started spilling from his eyes. His brother had just tried to kill him, and then abandoned him, leaving him to fend for himself. The youngest student in the game collapsed down into a sitting position and looked at the gun on the floor next to him. He desperately wanted to pick it up and hurl it as far as possible into the water, but forced himself not to, knowing he'd definitely need it to defend himself in the future.

And so Arthur became one more student going solo.

* * *

Unlike the Turner brothers, Caroline Easton (Female #5) didn't have the fortune of coming across anybody since her run in with Victoria Norton (Female #15). It had been a lonely two and a half hours since that event; the only thing of interest she'd come across during that time was a squirrel, jumping around in a tree above her head. With each passing minute, she was beginning to feel more and more that this 'mission' was a waste of her time, and had considered giving up on a number of occasions and just go back into hiding.

'_No, Victoria's counting on me, I _have_ to do this for her,_' Caroline thought, shoving her doubts away to the back of her mind and urging herself to continue. '_I was there for her when her dad was killed, I was there for her when she got in trouble at school, and I will be there for her to help with this plan,_' she thought, looking at the map. '_I'm just not looking in the right places. I'll give it another twenty minutes of searching and then head off to Mount Blair and see what I can find aroun-_'

"Ah! Merde! Vous me faites marcher?"

Caroline jumped and nearly screamed when she heard the colorful French phrase from near some rocks in the distance to her right. It was a male, no doubt about that, and there was only one guy in their class who could speak French that fluently, so Caroline quickly deduced who this boy was, and shouted out to him.

"Olivier!"

* * *

Olivier Dumont (Male #6) immediately looked around wildly for the source of the voice and instantly regretted the outburst he'd made just a few seconds beforehand. His duffel bag was lying open on the ground, a bread roll, his flashlight, compass and most importantly, his stun gun, littered around nearby. The strap from his bag had snapped, causing it to tip up and spill its contents over the place, and causing him to cuss out involuntarily, yet loudly enough for the girl to hear him.

'_Qui est là?_' Olivier thought, though not daring to poke his head round the rock he was crouched down behind to put a face to the voice he heard. Already he knew it wasn't Allison, and she was really the only person on the island he would have wanted to meet up with.

"It's me, Caroline. Where are you?" Caroline called out again, letting Olivier know who she was while sounding like she was approaching his hiding place. Olivier groaned silently and closed his eyes, hoping this girl he barely knew (nine and a half months wasn't a lot of time to get to know everyone, especially when he kept to himself) wasn't going to find him. He was to be proved wrong.

"Olivier, there y-"

"Agh!" Olivier yelled in shock, looking round at the girl that had walked around the rock while he had his eyes shut. "W-what do you want?" he asked, ducking down to grab his stun gun, an act which surprised the girl standing before him. She hadn't expected him to be so… freaked out.

"Whoa! It's okay, Olivier! I'm not going to hurt you," Caroline said, trying to calm him down, worried he would attack her before she could get a chance to explain herself. "I only want your weapon."

"Why?" Olivier asked, looking down at the stun gun in his hand and then back at the female, suspicious of her. "Why do you want zis?"

"I want to get rid of it," she explained. "I'm trying to help Vicky stop this game by getting rid of the weapons."

"N-no! You 'ave to be lying!" Olivier said, hugging the stun gun against his chest so she wouldn't be able to grab at it, careful not to accidentally press the trigger and shock himself silly. "Y-you're just going to kill me as soon as I 'and it over!"

"Of course I'm not! Do I look like the killing type to you?" Caroline rhetorically asked, sounding hurt at being accused of this untrue ulterior motive.

"Don't you dare get near me! I'm warning you!" Olivier shouted, pointing the stun gun directly at Caroline and pressing the trigger, an arc of blue-white electricity dancing between the two prongs at the business end of the weapon. Caroline squeaked and leapt back, putting her arms up above her head and staring at the stun gun in terror.

Then, while Caroline was still distracted by the electrical discharge being pushed towards her face, Olivier scooped his bag up and ran off.

"What in the- Olivier, wait! I'm really not going to hurt you!" Caroline called out after him, dashing to the other side of the rock where Olivier had disappeared to, seeing him run down the hill. '_I need to catch up and talk some sense into him,_' she thought, chasing after him and calling his name out again. Catching up was easier said than done though; Olivier may not have been the fastest student in the school, but he was still able to keep ahead of her, zigzagging between exposed rocks, trees and crossing fields to try and shake her off his trail. After just a few minutes, Caroline's legs felt like they were on fire and her throat felt parched from all the panting.

'_I… I can't carry on…_' Caroline had to come to a halt, gasping for breath and fighting the urge to throw up. She rested her hands on her knees and looked down at the ground, mentally cursing herself for not being as fit as she could have been. She looked back ahead and saw Olivier sprinting ahead at what seemed an increased pace, not even looking back to see how far behind she was. '_I can't catch up to him now, he's too far ahead. Oh man, what will Vicky think?' _she thought, barely able to hear her thoughts above her heavy breathing, her loud and rapid heartbeat, and some beeping. '_What's that soun- oh crud!_'

In that split second, she realized, to her horror, the beeping was coming from below her chin, and it was getting faster. Despite assuring Victoria that she wouldn't, she had just run straight into a danger zone. And she had twenty two seconds to leave before her head would get violently detached from the rest of her body.

Turning tail and completely forgetting about the chase, Caroline starting sprinting the way she came from, forcing her legs to work overtime to give her the speed she needed to get out of the area in one piece. She was running at a speed she didn't think was possible for her, even with the previous exertions already completely exhausting her. Heck, if she'd run at the rate she was going now, she may have been able to catch up to Olivier before hitting the danger zone. '_Is Olivier going to be alright? Oh c'mon, your own safety is more important than his!_' she guiltily thought.

Though Caroline couldn't see it, she was approaching the invisible line that separated death and relative safety, and at the speed she was going, she was going to escape. Forty feet from the boundary… thirty… twenty… ten…

And then she tripped on a small rock.

Caroline screamed and fell flat on her face, getting a mouthful of dried grass, splitting her lip and having a particularly sharp stone stab her thigh in the process. But that didn't matter to her as she raised her head, tears running down her face as the continuous ringing – no longer individual beeps – from her collar buzzed in her ears.

'_C'mon, gotta get out of here!_' Caroline desperately thought, attempting to stand back up. It was to no avail, as in that split second, the metal collar around her neck finished its deadly countdown. And then Caroline immediately experienced what it was like to have four explosive charges blow up right next to her neck. She didn't feel anything though; her death was instantaneous.

It was particularly ironic that her head, the lower half of which covered with hideous burns from the explosion, managed to escape the zone, propelled out of the area by the explosion, landing about twenty five feet away and coming to rest in some long grass.

* * *

Olivier jumped when he heard the explosion that came from behind him. He instinctively brought his hand up to his collar, which was still intact and rapidly flashing its green light.

He was ever so lucky; he had unintentionally cut across the danger zone when trying to evade Caroline. If he had been marginally slower, he would have also had his head blown off, a fate which had almost certainly been bestowed on the girl chasing him, judging from that explosion seconds ago.

'_Sh-she's gone, she's not chasing me anymore,_' Olivier thought, slightly relieved. '_But zere're still ozers out zere! Z-zey still want to kill moi!_'

Olivier quickly slinked away from the danger zone that had claimed its victim, making a mental note to keep his mouth shut so as to go undetected while he looked for a suitable hiding place.

* * *

The water wheel at the mill trundled at a steady pace as the water flowed underneath and powered its rotation, emitting a few creaks and groans now and again. The sounds were getting on the nerves of Barry Sykes (Male #19) and Richard Oakhurst (Male #13), both of whom had taken up occupancy of the building. Despite those small annoyances, the mill felt like a comparably safe haven for them, with four walls of solid stone, a couple of windows and a solid oak door standing between them and the outside world.

The pair had spent some time down by the river when they first arrived on the scene, deciding to wash their clothes of dried blood and day-old urine while they were there. Since both males were considerably modest, neither of them had wanted to take their pants (and in Barry's case, underpants as well) off in front of each other, so they opted for the next best thing; wading into the water to give their clothes a good rinse as they were still wearing them. It had proven to be very effective, if a little reckless as they were pretty much sitting ducks while standing in the water. Fortunately, no one with any murderous intentions was nearby.

The downside was that their clothes were dripping wet, cold, sticking to their legs, and taking forever and a day to dry. Several hours after the initial wash, their pants still felt clammy and slightly uncomfortable, but at least they weren't giving off anymore foul odors.

"Think there's anyone in the area?" Barry asked, trying to break the silence that had plagued them for a good quarter of an hour as he sat on a wooden stool.

"I dunno… hope not," Richard sighed, sitting on the floor against the wall, his gun, a Beretta 92FS, resting on the stone floor beside him. It had only been outside its bag for a short while, Richard keeping it inside the khaki sack and being careful not to get it anywhere near the water when he washed his clothes. A waterlogged gun that couldn't fire may still have been good for some form of pistol-whipping, but if it needed to shoot lead at somebody, something that Richard really hoped wouldn't have to happen, it would be useless.

Barry's weapon, a pair of gardening shears, were not as superior as his friend's firearm, but they were still decent compared to what some other students received. Ideal for chopping off small appendages or stabbing someone to death with the blades closed, in the right hands they could be deadly. Barry didn't have the right hands – nearly impaling his palm on the blades when pulling the shears out the bag earlier – and he didn't have any plans to partake in the killing that was going on all around them. The distant explosion they heard five minutes ago reminded them that people were dying out there and it didn't do anything to calm Barry's nerves.

Richard too had been shook up by the sound of Caroline's collar blowing up (though he didn't know it was that exactly, or that she was the victim) and looked anxiously at his gun, then glanced at the door. "I should go out there and stand guard, in case someone does get too close for comfort," Richard suggested, getting up to head to the door. As he got to his feet, he accidentally knocked the gun with his shoe, sending it sliding across the floor and underneath a wooden table standing against the opposite wall.

"Damnit," he cursed, walking over to the table and ducking underneath to retrieve the gun. Gripping his fingers around the handle, he tried to stand back up, and promptly banged his head on the underside of the table. "Ow!"

Barry winced at his friend's pain, but then saw something fall to the floor from where Richard had hit himself. "What the…?" he stated, walking over next to Richard and bent down to pick the item up, careful not to hit his head himself. It was a small dark blue book, with an old strip of silver duct tape barely sticking on to it.

"What's that you got there?" Richard asked, rubbing the sore spot on his scalp and placing the Beretta in the middle of the table so it couldn't fall off.

"Some book," Barry answered, flicking through the pages. The majority of them were blank, only the first few had writing on them; dates, times and other information scribbled on the small sheets of white lined paper. "I think it's some sort of journal or organizer."

"Then don't read it," Richard advised him. "C'mon, you know not to go looking into other people's things. I still remember when my older sister caught me reading through her diary. She literally threw me out her room."

"I really don't think this person's gonna mind," Barry said in return, flicking through the pages while trying to fathom just why Richard had been trying to look through his sister's private ramblings. "Let's start at the beginning," he suggested, setting the small book down on the table and turning to the first page while Richard sighed, grabbed the stool and sat down next to his friend, taking a peek at the first entry with him.

_Friday 10__th__ May 2013, 3:12am  
I don't expect anyone to read this, but I'll just humor myself. My name is Elliot Garcia, or to the majority of the population, Male #4 of the 8__th__ Battle Royale._

"The hell? This was written by another student?" Richard exclaimed.

"I guess it's not going to be about his latest crush or how much his younger brother annoys him then," Barry said, cracking a grin.

"I don't know what you're smiling about," Richard said, scowling at his friend. "This could be from someone who died in this building." It was enough to wipe the grin off Barry's face, and he looked down the page at the next entry.

_6:07am  
I can't believe it. Seven of my classmates have now gone: Amanda, Kelly, Gareth, Leigh, Andrew, Howard and Sara, they've all died. There're only 29 of us left, will I be next?_

Richard looked grim, reminded of the announcement that filled them in on the fates of five other students in their own class. Yvonne, Paula, Francesca, Darrell and Tristan, they were all gone as well and they were never going to come back. Barry turned the page, and his eyes widened at the third entry.

_2:37pm  
I just killed someone!_

Barry glanced up at Richard, his face also expressing alarm at this very disturbing revelation.

_I don't know what I was thinking! Someone just opened the door to the mill and I immediately shot them. It was Dale, all he had was some duct tape and I still killed him. What am I going to do now?_

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Richard said, looking away from the book and closing his eyes. Barry slid the book his way and continued reading, while Richard went to open the window and get some fresh air into the room.

_6:06pm  
Four more died in the past six hours, including Dale. I feel weird, I should feel guilty for contributing, but for some reason I don't anymore, I feel proud. They say the Program changes people, and looking back at my previous entries, they were right._

Despite feeling his heart beat faster in his chest, Barry's curiosity urged him to read more, looking across to the opposite page and reading the single entry written on it.

_8:26pm  
I'm heading out of the mill. I'm armed and ready to take down any competition that stands between me and survival. I'll leave this journal here for someone else to find._

Barry turned the page and saw nothing else; it had been the final entry. Elliot had apparently hidden the diary under the table with Dale's duct tape right after making the fifth entry. Barry couldn't help but wonder what became of Elliot after he departed the mill (the 12th Battle Royale was the earliest one he had watched), not knowing if he had gone on to kill more of his classmates and win, or if he ended up being picked off by someone else and fading into obscurity by the public.

'_I don't want that to happen to me,_' Barry thought. While Richard tentatively poked his head out of the window, hoping the fresh air and fragrance of pine would calm his churning stomach down, Barry gazed down at the next couple of pages, blank like the book was brand new, and he suddenly had an idea. Reaching into his duffel bag and careful not to jab himself on the shears again, he pulled out the clear plastic protective sleeve that held his map and pen. Taking the pen out and leaving the map on the table next to Richard's gun, he mulled over in his head how to start. After a short while and satisfied with a suitable opening entry, he began to write.

_Friday 13__th__ June 2014, 9:47am  
My name is Barry Sykes, aka Male #19 of the 19__th__ Battle Royale._

_

* * *

_

**End of Hour 10**

**Hours Remaining: 62  
Students Eliminated in Hour 10: Female #5 – Caroline Easton  
Students Remaining: 38**

**

* * *

**

_Some more French translations:_

_Ah! Merde! Vous me faites marcher? - Ah fuck! You gotta be kidding me!  
Qui est là? - Who's there?_

_Just one more character left and then everyone's been introduced since the orientation._


	16. Hour 11: One Down

**Hour 11: 10:00 – 10:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

**

* * *

**

Exactly one day ago, at just after 9am CDT, thirty-eight of the forty-five Pinefalls students would have been seated on the Swift Journey coach, heading out on what they'd believed to be just an ordinary museum trip. Five other students were stranded at the school gates, one was waiting at O'Hara airport for a flight to England and one was skipping school with some soccer team mates.

The certain teenager who had been playing hooky was now sitting down in the park located southeast of the school, resting his back against a beech tree. The place was a shadow of its former glory, with overgrown grass lawns, weed-ridden flowerbeds and a pond filled with stagnant, olive-colored water. The boy propped up against the tree trunk could care less about his surroundings, plus he was too busy sobbing his eyes out to see anything but a blurry mess anyway. He hadn't moved from his location ever since he arrived just before 1am, feeling more depressed than a hurricane. Nine hours down the line, his mood hadn't improved by much. If any student came across the mess of a student right that second, they wouldn't recognize him as William Blackwell (Male #2).

The boy known to be a cocky and arrogant soccer player, the boy whose last words upon leaving the classroom were "later, losers", the boy expected by nearly everyone to kill nearly everyone in his path, it just seemed implausible for William to be behaving like this. But he wasn't out for blood, and there was a simple explanation for that.

Everything he did back at Pinefalls High was a front.

He wasn't a naturally mean or tough person, he only acted that way at school and on the playing field in order to mask everything he hated about himself: his insecurity, his lack of self-esteem, and also, more importantly in his opinion, his homosexuality.

If word of his sexual orientation came out (pun not intended), not only would his reputation be in tatters, but he would most likely get kicked off the soccer team as well. It had happened to Perry Carter (Male #4) when he came out as a bisexual some months back. Within days, he had been barred from playing by their coach, Harry Fletcher, who was highly suspected of being a homophobe. After that incident, William knew it was crucial to keep his secret to himself if he wanted to keep his place in the squad, and he doubled his efforts to maintain his image.

Hooking up with Mallory Derwent (Female #4) though had been a stroke of genius. Both of them were in similar social circles and they saw each other very often; while he and the rest of the team practiced penalties and tackling during after-school sessions, Mallory and the rest of the cheerleaders would hang around and practice new techniques and routines, and occasionally ogle at the athletic guys running on the pitch. Sure, it was unfair on Mallory to pretend to love her, and at times he had wanted to break the whole thing off so she wouldn't have her heart broken. But it was important to show everyone else he was straight as a goalpost, and what better way to do that than by dating someone of the opposite sex? At least when he was done with high school and moved off to college, leaving Mallory and Coach Fletcher behind, he could safely drop the act and finally be himself. But then the Program reared its ugly head while he was least expecting it; while he was skipping the 'trip' and having a quick game of soccer with some of his friends.

Twenty four hours ago, William had been on top of the world. He, along with Michael Rush, Jake Lewycka, Brandon MacKenzie, Donald Cox and Shawn Thompson, had decided to skip classes and head off to the Pinefalls Recreational Park for a quick three-a-side game.

Just half an hour later, an army jeep pulled up out of nowhere, and several soldiers, armed with AK-47s, started approaching them. William was too much into the game to pay any attention and only noticed the newcomers when they had grabbed him by the shoulders, starting to drag him kicking and screaming to the jeep.

While most of the other players could only watch helplessly (due to firearms pointed in their direction) as their friend was being abducted, Donald angrily kicked the soccer ball in defiance at one of the soldiers, and got several bullets to his legs for his troubles. While Donald was rolling on the ground in agony and the four others tended to him, William was finally pulled into the jeep and roughly thrown onto a couple of sleeping bodies (those of Toni and Barry), and promptly knocked out by the airborne sleeping agent. And then he became Male #2 of the 19th Battle Royale.

'_I wonder if Donald's still alive,_' William thought, the image of him writhing on the ground and his blood splattering amongst the grass sticking in his memory. '_I'm not going to see him again, am I?_' The scene in his mind suddenly changed slightly, and instead of watching Donald in pain, William saw himself, crying out with blood dripping from his legs where he had been shot. He shivered at the very thought, and held his legs even closer to his chest, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to take over. '_That's going to happen to me, I'm going to die on here._'

Over the sniffles and quiet whimpers, William suddenly heard a new sound, one that wasn't coming from him. It was the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps on the path; someone was running his way.

'_Who could that be?_' William thought, cautiously poking his head out from behind the tree trunk. He could get a good glimpse of the person before he ducked back round, seeing it was definitely one of the other males. Light brown hair, very tall, he recognized him immediately as Stuart Kitson (Male #9). William bit his lip, remembering that Paula had been amongst the first set of dead students. '_Poor guy,_' he thought, although he couldn't know that Stuart had been responsible for his girlfriend's death. Stuart was the first person to pass through the area for hours now, and after being cooped up underneath the tree alone for so long, William was desperate for some company, and he figured that he could trust Stuart enough to team up with him. Plucking up the courage, he got up and stepped out from behind the tree.

"Hey!" he called out, putting his arms out to signal he was unarmed, his duffel bag lying down by the exposed roots of the tree. Stuart ground to halt several meters away from the soccer player, and to William's horror, he raised the gun that used to belong to Paula and pointed it right at his chest. "Stuart, what are you doing? P-put the gun down, I'm not armed! I don't want to fight!" he stuttered, feeling the color drain from his face.

"I'm sorry, Will, but I have to win. For Paula's sake," he said, his expression showing the slightest hint of sadness and regret of what he was about to do.

'_Fuck, he's serious!_' William thought, backing up in a futile effort to start running away. He only managed to take two steps backwards before Stuart pulled the trigger and fired a bullet right at his torso. William grunted, feeling like he'd been kicked hard in the ribs, and was knocked backwards onto the grass not far from the tree, sprawled out and not making any noise.

Stuart jumped, both from the recoil and the fact he'd just shot someone again, this time on purpose. He immediately turned around and ran back the way he came, not even checking to see if Will was dead or not. Though a bullet in the chest, surely that would have been fatal.

If he had checked on the soccer player though, he would have seen he was still very much alive, though in a world of pain. William coughed loudly, though Stuart was way out of earshot to hear it.

"Ughh... damn that hurts," he croaked, feeling his chest for where the bullet hit him. There was no blood coming out from the point of impact, in fact there wasn't even a wound there. "Thank god. It worked," he whispered, unzipping his jacket and revealing the thick black Kevlar vest he wore underneath, complete with the bullet it had stopped from penetrating his thumping heart. His chest hurt like a bitch though from the force, in fact one of his ribs had been fractured. '_I'm still alive though, thank God for that,_' he thought, letting his head fall back to the ground and looking up to the blue sky, letting the tears flow freely out.

In several hours time, he would have wished the bullet had killed him there and then.

* * *

Had someone talked to Mark Turner (Male #21) as soon as he walked out the school doors and told him that he would have tried to attack and kill his younger brother, there was every possibility he would have knocked that person out cold. Funny how things had played out since then.

It had just been forty minutes since his outburst at Arthur Turner (Male #20) and Mark was still fuming. His cheek was still smarting from where the bullet had skimmed against it, though the bleeding had stopped, leaving a long horizontal scab on his face.

'_Fucking bastard, he shot at me, he fucking shot at me!_' Mark angrily thought, completely ignoring the fact _he_ had pulled the first punches, and that _he_ was on the verge of killing Arthur in his blind rage that was still bubbling away in his head.

Mark was pissed, more so than he had ever been in his life, and it didn't seem like he was going to calm down for hours. He was so angry he felt he could kill the next person he came across with just his bare fists; he proved himself almost capable of doing that to his own brother (if it wasn't for that gun anyway), so imagine what he could do to someone who didn't have a similarly lethal weapon.

Mark stopped walking once he reached a grassy area and looked to see what was around and where he was. Even without his glasses, he could still see somewhat clearly, though he wouldn't have been able to read the map in his bag. Judging from the number of buildings in the near distance though, he knew he was back on the outskirts of the main town, somewhere south of the main road that linked the town with the clinic, lighthouse and the southern peninsular. He also knew he was safe from wandering into any danger zones, all three on the other side of the town and not in the direction he was going anyway, so the only danger would be a handful of the other thirty-seven students spread out all over the island.

He was about to continue heading south when he suddenly heard the crashing sound of leaves and branches being hastily pushed aside. Mark quickly turned to face the source of the noise, a group of bushes lining the road that was shaking violently. '_Someone's in there,_' he thought.

He was correct, and that particular someone emerged from the bushes soon after, the male panting and coughing like he'd been running non-stop for the past hour. Mark recognized the person as Zachary Reilly (Male #16), another boy unfortunate enough to get pints of Duncan Marshall's (Student A) arterial blood sprayed over his face and clothes. Though since then, Zachary had also gained several minor cuts to his face and a large rip in his jacket from plowing through the shrubbery with wild abandon, and his left arm was also hanging limply by his side.

Zachary checked his surroundings and spotted Mark standing just a couple of feet away, and lumbered towards him with a crazed look that seemed close to insanity. "You have to help me!" he screamed, grabbing Mark by his shirt with his one working hand. "She's gone mad and she's trying to kill me!"

"Hey, hey! Get off me!" Mark shouted back, pushing Zachary away from him with a hard shove that nearly sent him falling over backwards. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

There was another loud rustling and a second figure, the "she" Zachary was referring to, soared right out of the vegetation. And before Mark knew what was happening, an aluminum baseball bat had been slammed into his side.

"Auugghh!" Mark cried out and collapsed to the ground as waves of pain shot through his body, a couple of his ribs broken from the impact. The newcomer who wielded the metal weapon, Rachel Barry (Female #2), glared down at Mark with disgust.

"What're you doing?" she shouted. "You're in my way!" All Mark wanted to do, in his fury, was argue back and tell this girl to watch where she was running, but he was in too much pain to do much of anything, and that baseball bat looked particularly menacing.

Zachary, watching the events from a few yards away, realized that Rachel had temporarily forgotten about pursuing him. Taking advantage of the fact, he quickly fled the scene while she was still preoccupied with chewing Mark out, dashing towards the edge of the forest and disappearing amongst the trees. When Rachel looked up from the angry boy on the floor, she could see her earlier quarry vanishing into the woods, too far away now for her to start the chase up again. This only served to infuriate her more.

"You made me lose him!" she screamed at Mark, small drops of spit flying out of her mouth and landing on his face. "You let him get away! Damn you!" She brought the bat down, Mark just rolling out of the way in time, hissing in pain as his fractured ribs were disturbed.

"Rachel, stop it!" Mark shouted, watching her bring the bat back up for another swing.

"Shut up!" she screeched, slamming her weapon down again with a loud grunt. Mark was too slow this time and the bat struck his ankle, fracturing the joint and preventing him from getting up to run away.

"Aaagghhh! You _bitch!_" he hollered out, wildly swinging his leg and trying to kick at Rachel with his one working foot, hoping to bring her down. He surprisingly made contact with the girl, kicking her in the shin, but not hard enough to break her leg or even trip her up. At best it would hurt her for a long while and leave a large bruise.

Rachel gasped in pain, but it did nothing to stop her. Now sporting a slight limp, she marched round next to his head, and gave him a swift hard kick to the side of his face as payback. Mark gave a loud muffled cry as a couple of teeth were knocked clean from his gums and blood started to fill his mouth.

"'achel… sto'… 'lease…" he whimpered, blood dribbling down his chin and attempting to cough up a tooth that had slipped down his throat. His anger was gone, replaced by the pain from different parts of his body, and also by a new feeling: fear. He looked up at his attacker, his brown eyes brimming with tears, and saw her glaring back, breathing heavily. Mark would never in a million years have expected Rachel to be this ferocious. And being on the receiving end of such fury, it made him realize just what it was like for someone else when he'd directed his anger at them. '_This… this is how Arthur felt when I blew up at him earlier, isn't it?_' he thought, feeling an immense amount of guilt at this epiphany.

"Time to die," Rachel said, Mark watching helplessly as she raised the aluminum bat for what would be the final time in his lifetime. She let out a primal scream and slammed the bat down on Mark's forehead, cracking his skull. Mark let out a quiet whimper as soon as the bat made contact with his head, which was actually air escaping his lungs as his life left his body, rather than any attempt to say anything.

Rachel's fury hadn't dissipated with just the one hit, and so she continued to pound the bat down on Mark's head. After seven strikes, when Rachel had finally let out her pent up anger, Mark's head and facial features were completely unrecognizable, now just a gory mess with blood and pieces of his brain splattered all over the ground, on Rachel's shoes and adorning the silver-colored bat she held in her hands.

"Good riddance," she muttered, shaking the excess blood off the bat and turning away from the body. Zachary would be too far away now; he may be slightly deluded, but he wasn't stupid enough to hang around, so he was essentially a lost cause. Mark had made up for Zachary's escape though; it was still a kill, even if he didn't look to have any decent weapons (or any weapon at all) on him. The sickle would have been a nice addition to her arsenal, but she would have to do without for now. "More people out there and that means more weapons," she said.

So, placing the weapon on her shoulder and getting some blood on her black cardigan, she headed towards the center of the town. Resuming the hunt.

* * *

The three of them sat by the end of the gravel path in zone C2, a headland that overlooked the ocean to the north. It was starting to get hot now, the sun arcing high in the sky and just less than two hours away from reaching its zenith.

Ursula Steine (Female #19) wanted to avoid the harsh rays, so she opted to sit under the shade offered by a multitude of pine trees, accompanied there by Franklin Sharpe (Male #18) and Jonathan Newman (Male #12), the former looking out to sea and the latter keeping the SIG-Sauer in his hands, the pair taking it in turns to hold the firearm, swapping over every now and again.

It had been over an hour since they'd first arrived at their current location, talking about mostly trivial things such as the last movie Franklin saw (_Final Destination_ on DVD, his personal favorite), or how Jonathan had gotten lost within the first few minutes of leaving the school. It brought about a sense of normality, and for a while, amongst the laughter and stories they shared, they briefly forgot that they were in the Program and instead felt just like a group of teenagers hanging out.

The sound of a patrol boat zipping past the cliff brought the reality crashing back though, and the happiness they all felt instantly faded away as they remembered where they were, and what they were supposed to do.

"Look, guys, we need to think about what we're going to do," Ursula said, drawing the attention of the two males. "Did either of you have any ideas?" Her question was met by a short silence as both boys looked at each other and tried to think of an answer, neither having thought that far ahead. After what seemed like several minutes, Jonathan finally replied.

"I… don't know exactly what we were going to be doing," he replied. "I thought we could just sit back for the meantime, we should be safe and out of everyone's way here," he suggested. Ursula didn't like the sound of his plan and immediately voiced her concern.

"But what if everyone else does the same as that? At midnight on Sunday, we're all going to have our throats blown open," she said, looking to Jonathan. "I'm not suggesting we go out and kill, before you say anything, I'm suggesting we find a way off the island. I thought you of all people would be able to find out how to remove these things," she added, tugging at her collar, careful not to pull on it too hard and accidentally detonate it.

"That's a lot easier said than done, Ursula. They've put devices in the collars to stop us from tampering with them. I saw one of the Programs a few months ago, and some guy tried to pry open someone else's collar with a machete to try and remove it," Jonathan explained, Ursula glancing briefly at her closed bag, Tristan's machete still inside and still undiscovered by the pair. "He only managed to open a small panel when it triggered something and exploded, killing his buddy and blowing his hands off."

"Damn!" Franklin exclaimed, while Ursula remained quiet, very unnerved by this piece of information. It was a terrible blow for her, her plan of escape cracking apart and falling to pieces all around her.

"I-I need the toilet," Ursula announced, suddenly feeling the need to void her bladder. She stood up and walked away from the two males, disappearing into the trees. '_This isn't going to work at all,_' she thought as she strolled through the trees. '_We're not going to escape and they're just more than content to sit there until our time's up._' She brought her hand up to the collar around her neck, the collar that would kill her in less than sixty-two hours' time, maximum. She clutched gently at the warm metal secured tightly around her neck, a shackle chaining her to the game.

'_If I stay with them, I'm gonna die with them._' It was a horrible realization, and it was one that she wanted to prevent at all costs. She had to leave the two boys, she had to get away from them.

No, not just get away.

'_I have to kill them,_' she thought, slightly worried at how quickly the words had sprung to mind. Immediately her stomach tied itself in knots at the mere thought of the k-word, but it was what needed to be done if she wanted to survive the barbaric competition. If there was no escaping, she had to be the last one standing, and it meant that both Jonathan and Franklin would have to die. '_Yes, I have to if I want to survive… but can I go through with it? The end justifies the means, right?_' she thought, uncertain if she should or not.

Other than the moral dilemma she faced, there was also another problem; there were two of them, she was outnumbered. Even with the crossbow, she couldn't shoot them at the same time, and by the time she killed one of them, the other could have easily taken her out before she could reload the second bolt. '_Wouldn't be a problem if they turned on each other… that's it!_'

It was a wonder why she hadn't thought about it earlier, but it was an ingenious way to get out of her current predicament: turning them against each other.

Stopping beside a small ditch she could do her business in, she began to come up with a plan, and how to pull it off. '_I could put Franklin's weapon in genius boy's bag, then tell him that we shouldn't trust Franklin, and vice versa,_' she thought. It was a high risk strategy and she'd have to be careful not to be caught, but it could work. Under this kind of pressure, sparks would fly very quickly. Accusations would escalate into violence, and if she played her cards right, she could get out of there unscathed while the two of them killed each other. She may have been the one to start it, but they would be the ones doing the dirty deeds. It was decided: as soon as she returned, she would pull this plan off.

* * *

"She really looked upset there," Jonathan said, sighing and looking round in the direction Ursula had gone, feeling incredibly guilty for what he'd said. She'd left her bag by the tree she was resting under, her crossbow poking out from underneath the mass of khaki material. Jonathan could only hope that there really was nobody else nearby, or else Ursula may have just unknowingly walked to her doom. "I can't help thinking she was relying on me to get us all off this island."

"I don't think I trust her that much," Franklin stated, getting with up his bag hanging over his shoulder and sitting down where Ursula had been moments ago, looking over at the horizon.

"Why's that?" Jonathan asked, turning to face him.

"Just some gut feeling, you know, and in a horror movie you've always gotta-"

"Quit going on about your movies, you're possessed with them," Jonathan interrupted, sounding annoyed.

"You mean obsessed, and I'm not," Franklin corrected him.

"No, possessed, like _The Exorcist_."

"Oh, you're so funny," Franklin sarcastically remarked. "Anyway, if she really wanted to escape the island, imagine what she'd do to achieve—is that a cruise liner over there?" he suddenly said, pointing out to the sea. Jonathan quickly looked round in the direction Franklin pointed at, but couldn't see anything except for another one of the many small patrol boats crossing the idyllic scene.

"I don't see one, you must be going blind or something," Jonathan replied, scanning all over the horizon for the large ship Franklin was talking about. "It would have been awesome though, if a ship could just come along, pluck us all up and take us home."

"Yeah, but I don't see that happening," Franklin sighed, taking a sip of his water as he walked back to his original seating spot. "The ship would just get blown to bits by the army guarding the island or we'd have our collars detonate like that guy you were talking about."

Jonathan sighed as well, the two of them sitting in silence for the next couple of minutes, when there was a sudden bristling sound, Jonathan yelping out in surprise as someone approached them through the trees.

"Chill, it's only me," Ursula said, emerging from the evergreen branches and plopping herself down at the base of the tree she had been sitting at before. Everything was like it was when she left, Jonathan still sitting under the tree with the gun (thankfully he hadn't tried to shoot at her with it), and Franklin was still looking out over the ocean.

"Feeling better?" Jonathan asked.

"Yeah," Ursula said, pausing for a second. "Yeah I am, thanks." She was truly feeling better, but not in the way that Jonathan thought. Her plan was coming to fruition, with just a few details to look over. '_It'll be risky, but I could throw my crossbow into the mix, make it seem like I'm a victim as well,_' she contemplated. She would have to bide her time and wait until neither of them were looking, then discretely place it in Jonathan's bag.

There was one snag that she hadn't noticed, one she hadn't thought was even feasible, and that was her crossbow was no longer where she had left it, underneath her duffel bag.

Her weapon was instead nestled in Franklin's bag along with his mallet, from where he had swiped it while distracting Jonathan with the false sighting of the cruise ship. Unbeknownst to the other two with him, Franklin had come up a plan of his own.

* * *

**End of Hour 11**

**Hours Remaining: 61  
Students Eliminated in Hour 11: Male #21 – Mark Turner  
Students Remaining: 37**

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* * *

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_A/N: And that's every student accounted for. I'm going to put a new poll up now that everyone's had their time in the spotlight, be sure to check it out._


	17. Hour 12: Betrayal

**Hour 12: 11:00 – 11:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

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* * *

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Tamsin Forrest (Female #8) had never felt this hungry in her entire life. Even the one time she had skipped meals and tried to starve herself to lose just that little bit of weight, it was nothing compared to this. Mainly because this time she couldn't give in and go raiding the fridge when the hunger pangs got too much.

The ambush on her by Lee Dawford (Male #5) had not only left her deprived of her weapon (like the feather duster could have done anything anyway), but also most of her food and water. Two bread rolls and a bottle of water, gone in a flash.

That was over six hours ago, and the single remaining bread roll had long been eaten and digested. Apart from a handful of half-ripe blueberries – which tasted so bitter she nearly vomited them back up – that she'd discovered growing wild in a bush, she'd had nothing else to eat since the start of the game. Her stomach was literally crying out for food, a loud rumbling occasionally emanating from her digestive organs. Hiding seemed like an impossibility now; to her the noise sounded loud enough to attract other people's attention. That and she still needed to get her hands on some form of food, and hiding would do nothing for that.

'_Yeah, you're more interested in finding food than finding your step-sister, how selfish does that sound?_' she thought with a sigh of exasperation. After all this time, she still hadn't seen a glimpse of Toni Mitchell (Female #13) on her travels. The only thing she knew about her was that she had managed to survive the first six hours at least. But that meant nothing now, she could have died since then, or be dying right that second. Without a watch, Tamsin had absolutely no idea what the time was, and therefore no idea when the next report would be (it was actually only fifty-six minutes to go until the midday report).

Not only was she in the dark about the time, but also her whereabouts. Her map had gone as well, no thanks to Lee, as well as the compass. After that skirmish, Tamsin had at first decided on staying by the large rock so she wouldn't end up wandering aimlessly into any upcoming danger zones. But once the roll was gone, she knew she had to move on. Heading out there, getting lost and suffering a quick and painless death by her collar sounded more desirable (only just) than losing all energy and dying from starvation.

Thankfully for her, she wouldn't be lost for long.

Crossing a grassy patch of land west of the clinic where Toni stared death in the face exactly six hours ago, and then pushing some bushes aside, Tamsin found herself coming across one of the many paths that criss-crossed the island. While that was good in itself, since it gave her something to follow at least, there was something else she spotted standing right next to the dirt and bark chips, something much better than just the track. It was a wooden post, a good deal taller than her 5'6" self with small pointed metal bars sticking horizontally out near the top, each one with writing on them.

'_A signpost, excellent,_' Tamsin thought, daring to let a feeling of hope wash over her. Her eyes scanned over each of the signs, trying to see which one would be the best place to head to. One such place immediately jumped out at her, and at first Tamsin had to double-take to make sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. '_Diner, 750m!_'

Her brain instantly came up with the equation 'diner = food', not even stopping to consider whether the diner even had any. Out of all the places though, it was her best chance at finding something to eat. If that turned out bad, well then she'd have to hope she met someone who'd share some of their bread and not shoot a well-placed bullet between her eyes.

'_Here I go,_' Tamsin thought, following the path along, unaware she was going to get a lot more than food once she reached the diner.

* * *

'_This can't be right, I could've sworn I left my crossbow around here. Where the hell is it?_' Ursula Steine (Female #19) thought with growing worry, frantically looking around the place where she had been sitting for the past forty minutes, though she had only noticed the absence of her weapon five minutes ago.

"Is everything okay, Ursula?" Jonathan Newman (Male #12) asked, watching her as she lifted his bag up to look underneath it, then set it down again. "What're you looking for?"

"I-I think I lost my weapon," Ursula replied, genuinely sounding worried. "I can't find it anywhere."

Franklin Sharpe (Male #18) looked round from facing the sea at hearing Ursula. "Is it in your bag?" he asked, knowing all along where her weapon truly was.

"No, that was the first place I checked," Ursula replied, exhaling deeply. '_Okay, gotta focus,_' she thought, trying hard to calm herself down. '_Forget about it for now, the crossbow wasn't essential for the plan, so I can still pull this off. I just need to get my hands on the mallet and put it in Jon's bag without either of them noticing._'

"Uh, changing the subject," Jonathan suddenly announced, drawing the other students' attention and standing up. "I need to go and… you know…" he said, too embarrassed to finish his sentence in front of them.

"Go on then," Franklin sighed, rolling his eyes then looking back out over the horizon as Jonathan disappeared into the trees to do his thing, taking the gun with him. Judging from just how sheepish the boy was when he announced his departure, both him and Ursula figured he would walk quite a distance away from them.

'_Great! Now's my chance,_' Ursula thought, looping the strap of her bag round her shoulder and getting up to walk over to Franklin, her eyes fixed on the duffle bag that lay partially unzipped next to him. '_Reach in, take the mallet, put it in my bag and then into Jonathan's bag from there,_' she thought. Franklin glanced round and saw her approaching him.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I just wanted to admire the view, that's all, try and take my mind off the crossbow," Ursula lied, sitting down beside him on the grass. The bag was easily within her reach, and if she could keep his head turned away from it, she would be able to take his weapon and he'd be none the wiser. "Can you see anything in the distance?" she asked, hoping he would concentrate solely on what was ahead of him and so it would detract his attention from his bag.

"Hmm… I think I can make out a yacht, probably belongs to some tycoon or something," Franklin said, squinting his eyes as he looked ahead at a white dot in the distance, completely unaware that Ursula was inching her arm towards his bag. The unzipped portion was just large enough to fit her hand through and feel around for the mallet without making any audible noise. '_Hmm… no, that's his map… that's a bottle… oh, is that… wait a goddamn minute!_'

Her hand wasn't resting on a large wooden handle or the block head of the mallet, but some kind of contraption. She could feel some thin wire, a curved bow and a couple of long narrow cylindrical bolts, all of which felt very _very_ familiar to her. '_That's my crossbow! Why is it in his bag?_' Ursula suddenly felt like the contents of her skull had migrated into her arms, feeling dizzy and lightheaded while her limbs felt like lead, too heavy to respond to her brain's commands properly. The shocking surprise also made her lose all track of time, and she ended up wasting precious seconds.

"Hey guys, I'm—Ursula what are you doing?" Jonathan had returned at precisely the worst moment possible, and Ursula found herself caught with her hand in the metaphorical cookie jar.

'_Oh shit…_' was all her mind could come up with, her blood turning to ice as Franklin craned his head round, looking stunned at seeing Ursula's arm halfway in his bag. His surprise quickly turned to anger.

"What do you think you're doing?" Franklin barked at her, standing up and snatching the bag away from her before Ursula could even get a grip on the crossbow.

"I…" she started to say, struggling to come up with a believable explanation. She desperately wanted to tell them about the crossbow, but then she would have to explain why she was rummaging through Franklin's bag in the first place.

"Jonathan, give me the gun, now," Franklin demanded, Ursula's eyes going wide as saucers as another chill made its way down her spine. Her mind was screaming at her to run for her life, but her legs wouldn't budge an inch.

"You-you're not going to shoot her, are you?" Jonathan asked, looking apprehensive.

"No I'm not, just give me the damn gun," he repeated, Jonathan briefly looking at the girl then walking towards Franklin to hand the firearm to him.

'_Something's not right here,_' Ursula managed to think. '_If he doesn't want to shoot me, why does he want the gun?_' Ursula's suspicion was justified; when Jonathan gave Franklin the gun, he didn't immediately point it at Ursula and send a bullet searing through her temple and into her brain.

He instead pointed it at Jonathan.

"Whoa, Franklin, w-what the fuck?!" Jonathan cried out. "What's going-"

"Get over there, next to Ursula!" Franklin ordered, interrupting the other boy. Jonathan could only do as he was told, afraid that disobedience was going to get him killed. Pacing over next to Ursula, all he could do was look at the horror film fan in terror.

"Franklin, what are you doing?" Ursula demanded. "What the hell has got into you?"

"Fine, I'll tell you," Franklin spoke, pointing the gun back and forth between the two teens like a deadly game of eeny-meeny-miney-mo. "When Jonathan said that there was no way off the island apart from participating, it made me think back to the start. Do you remember Graham, back in the classroom? It was me who let him know he had to leave. If he hadn't, well, he would have been killed, and my chances of survival would have increased a bit. Taro was right, helping Graham was a bad move on my part. So was helping you two, so I'm just going to leave you to fend for yourselves."

"You're listening to _Taro_ of all people?!" Jonathan shouted, aghast at Franklin's decision.

"If I want to survive, then I should," Franklin retorted, grinning with a slight trickle of saliva escaping the corner of his lips. "I have the gun, I have your crossbow and I have the mallet. Classic horror movie cliché; those who aren't armed end up bei-"

"Will you just _shut the fuck up_ about those _damn_ horror movie references?!" Jonathan screamed at him, something that shocked Ursula, as well as surprising himself.

"Don't make me shoot you!" Franklin shouted, shaking the gun in Jonathan's direction as he wiped the drool away from his mouth. "I really don't want to, I really don't need to, since there's nothing you can do now. But if you try anything funny against me, I won't hesitate in killing you."

For Ursula, there was something that she could do, and though she didn't want to put it into action, she knew she had to if she didn't want to die thanks to this maniac. She slowly reached into her bag, an act which didn't go unnoticed by Franklin.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, pointing the gun at her face.

"I'm thirsty," Ursula calmly replied, ignoring Jonathan's bewildered gaze and keeping her eyes trained on Franklin while she rummaged around. "Can't I have a drink?"

"I guess you can," Franklin said. "Besides, I have your weapon, you can't do anything," he taunted.

"You're half right about that," Ursula spat. Before Franklin could figure out the meaning of what she'd just said, Ursula's hand shot out the bag, gripped tightly around the handle of the machete that she'd plundered from Tristan. She then hurled it right at Franklin, the blade pointing forwards like a silver missile as it soared towards him. Franklin instinctively squeezed the trigger as soon as Ursula released the weapon, but having forgotten to cock the pistol, nothing happened whatsoever. Except for the machete slicing into his bicep.

Franklin screamed out as the blade sunk into his arm, slashing at the muscle and tendons, drawing a considerable amount of blood before falling to the floor behind him. Out of reflex, his hand opened, releasing the gun which fell harmlessly to the ground. Jonathan, initially stunned by Ursula's surprise attack, acted quickly and sprinted forwards, grabbing the SIG-Sauer before Franklin could even bend down to reclaim it. Jonathan cocked the gun and pointed it right at Franklin's face, angrier than he had ever been before in his life.

"I trusted you, you bastard. We both did," Jonathan hissed, while Franklin held the gash with his other hand, trying hard to stem the steady flow.

"I'm bleeding…" was all Franklin could say, not even acknowledging the firearm just inches from his head. "Shit, the zombies will be after me! I have to get out of here!" And so leaving a very confused Jonathan and Ursula behind, Franklin took off down the path, his bag swinging wildly behind him as he fled the scene.

For the first time since Franklin had first turned on the pair, Ursula felt relieved and released a breath she didn't even know she was holding. It was a very short-lasted respite though, for Jonathan then pointed the gun at her. "Jonath-!"

"Where did you get the machete from?" he questioned her. "Why didn't you tell us about it in the first place?" Ursula remained silent, which gave him the answer he didn't want to hear. "Oh no… you didn't… who's was it?"

"It w-was T-Tristan's," Ursula stammered. Jonathan didn't utter a single word in reply and instead started backing away from the girl. A flash of white brought his attention to the ground, the blood-stained machete reflecting the bright sunlight into his eyes as he passed it. Jonathan paused, then bent down and picked it, shaking the blood off and then placed it in his bag while keeping the gun trained on Ursula.

"If you follow me, don't expect this kind of mercy again. I'm only saving your life this time because you helped save mine," he spoke, before diverting off the path and vanishing amongst the trees for the second time that hour. Ursula could only stare blankly into space, before her legs, shaking like they were made of jelly, gave out and she collapsed onto her backside.

The plan she so carefully and meticulously plotted out had failed miserably. An hour ago, she had two weapons and two companions, and now she had neither. Nothing to defend herself with and nobody to rely on. As she felt her heart thump heavily in her chest, only one thought ran through her mind as the tears spilled down her face.

'_I'm going to die._'

* * *

'_I found it, finally!_' Tamsin thought as she eyed the diner several yards in front of her. It looked smaller than she would have imagined, but that didn't matter. She didn't care one bit about the size of the building, only what it contained.

It hadn't been a very long or eventful trek through the forest to reach the diner, but in her weakened state, it felt like a massive achievement. There had also been times when she thought she was being watched, spied on from the multitude of trees and shrubs that bordered and covered the relatively dark path, but nothing came of it.

'_No time to lose,_' Tamsin thought, about to make a bee line to the diner's doors. However, she jumped back when she saw Imani Velasquez (Female #21) walk out with no warning, her hands in her cardigan pockets. Tamsin, spooked by the girl's sudden appearance, immediately held her breath, fearing that the bitchy cheerleader was able to see or hear her. Fortunately, since she was standing amongst the trees by the edge of the clearing and positioned behind some low bushes, she was hidden in the shade the dense foliage provided. And so Imani simply walked around the corner of the building, humming a tune to herself until she was out of sight.

'_That was too close, but the coast is clear now, she's gone,_' Tamsin thought, emerging from the trees and stealthily making her way up the wooden steps and into the diner. She was instantly hit by the aroma of onions, which not only made her eyes water, but also let her know there was at least something edible around the place. She walked between the neatly set chairs and tables (all missing knives and forks, she noticed) and through to the kitchen area.

One thing that Tamsin failed to take into account was that if Imani had just been in the diner, the rest of the cheerleaders would most likely be nearby. And as it happened, one of them was currently standing in the kitchen.

Tamsin nearly yelped in surprise at seeing Kirsty Nichols (Female #14) at the counter with her back to the door, holding a katana in her hand. Instead of brandishing it as a weapon though, she was trying to chop some vegetables up with the long blade and then was dumping them in a large silver pot on the stove. Kirsty heard the slight noise behind her and turned round, expecting to see one of her cheerleader friends. When she saw that it wasn't one of them, the katana slipped out of her fingers and clattered noisily on the brown tiled floor.

"Tamsin?" she asked, swiftly picking the oriental sword up by its handle, surprised how the girl had managed to get past the four people seated outside without being detected.

"Please don't hurt me… I just want something to eat," Tamsin begged, putting out her hands to show she had nothing on her person. "Lee took my bag and I have nothing to eat now."

"Oh Tamsin…" Kirsty said, taking pity on her. "Let's see what I can find for you around here," she said, looking around for something to give to the newcomer. The carrots, celery and onion had all been cut up and were in the pot ready for cooking, so they were off limits. "Hmm… I did see a couple of packets of peanuts around here earlier," she said, looking around for where she'd seen them before.

"Found one," Tamsin said, picking it up from off the counter where it stood by itself. She tore the silver plastic packet open and tipped a third of the contents straight into her mouth.

"Damn, you must be hungry," Kirsty commented as Tamsin crunched the peanuts up and then gulped noisily.

"Thanks for letting me have these," Tamsin said, tipping the rest of the peanuts into her mouth, just enough there to take the edge off her hunger and give her a slight energy, if not morale, boost.

"Kirsty, when will you be starting lunch?" came a new voice, both girls turning to the main dining area. Mallory Derwent (Female #4) strode into the kitchen, and came to a halt when she saw Tamsin standing there. "What is she doing here?" she demanded, Tamsin shying away at how furious Mallory sounded.

"Relax, Mal, she's unarmed and only wanted some food," Kirsty explained, defending Tamsin for her. "Lee took everything off of her."

"Ugh… that jackass?" Mallory groaned. "I wouldn't put it past him. You know he tried to take my bag as soon as I left the school when I was waiting for you guys? I had to kick the idiot in the leg just so he'd leave me alone."

"Hey, have any of you two seen Toni around?" Tamsin piped up. "I'm trying to find her, but I have no idea where she is."

"No, we haven't seen her either," Kirsty replied. "Can't help you there, sorry."

"Oh… okay…" Tamsin said, sounding downbeat by the news. Her stomach suddenly gave off an audible rumble, telling her and the others that the peanuts she'd snacked on weren't enough to keep her going. Plus the saltiness of them was starting to make her even thirstier. Grabbing a beaker conveniently sitting by the sink, she turned the faucet on at the large metal basin (mercifully the water was still connected), filling the beaker up and gulping the water down.

"Tamsin, do you want to stay for a bit?" Kirsty suggested while Tamsin was still busy replenishing her fluids. "I'm starting lunch, so you can have some of that when it's ready."

"Why?" Mallory asked, obviously not a big fan of the proposal. "Does this look like a refuge for poor little lost girls? And what's stopping her from turning on us the moment she gets her hands on a weapon?"

"I wouldn't!" Tamsin protested, taking offence at Mallory's spiteful words. "Besides, I don't wanna stay too long, I have to find Toni," she said, filling her second beaker of water.

"Look, I have an idea. You're in my cooking class, so you can help me with prepping this stew," Kirsty explained to Tamsin, who nodded in response and looked at the pot of chopped veggies. Kirsty then turned to Mallory for the next part. "We have enough ingredients to make this stew last for ages, so we can afford to let her take some of our rolls when she leaves to look for Toni." Tamsin had to say that she was impressed by Kirsty's notion, and hoped it would be enough to win Mallory over.

"Okay, fine! She can stay with us for now, but I'll be keeping an eye on her, just to make sure she doesn't do anything stupid," Mallory said. "C'mon, let's go and explain the situation with Leah and Imani, they probably don't know you're here. The last thing I want is them getting their panties in a twist over a second intruder."

"Second intruder?" Tamsin wondered, following Mallory out of the main entrance and round the corner. When she saw Corey O'Donoghue (Male #14) sitting down by a tree stump, she got her answer.

His hands were bound behind his back and his legs tied together by what appeared to be a pale blue cardigan (Mallory's to be precise), and alarmingly, there was also a large bloodstain over his shoulder. He was still alive though and was struggling a bit against his bonds, still in a great deal of pain with the round still buried in his shoulder.

"What the heck happened to him?" Tamsin gasped, fearing she'd just gone and grouped up with a bunch of killers.

"He tried to kill us," Kirsty explained, having followed her and Mallory out. "Imani actually, but I don't doubt he would have gone after the rest of us." That knowledge made Tamsin shiver slightly, but it did give her a feeling of comfort to know that if the girls weren't going to kill a possible murderer, then they definitely wouldn't kill her.

Mallory walked over to talk to Imani about Tamsin's stay, and she responded by glaring at the new arrival, making her feel very unwanted. Leah Smith (Female #18) however gave her a much warmer welcome once Kirsty explained it all, and instantly struck up a conversation with Tamsin, talking to her about plenty of pointless facts and figures. Tamsin would never in a million years have thought she would be rubbing shoulders with the 'earbleeders', especially in the Battle Royale of all places. But they had been welcoming to her, with the exception of Imani (who was just mean all the time anyway) and Corey (no need to explain why).

'_Staying here for an hour or two won't hurt, right?_' she thought. And as the time ticked to 11:42, she only had eighteen minutes to go until she learned what, if anything, had happened to her step-sister.

* * *

**End of Hour 12**

**Hours Remaining: 60  
Students Eliminated in Hour 12: None  
Students Remaining: 37**

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_A/N: And we're halfway through the first day, quite a milestone if you ask me. It feels weird that it's almost been a whole 11 months since I first started on the story though._**  
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	18. Hour 13: R2: Brother My Brother

**Hour 13: 12:00 – 12:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

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It was midday, the halfway point of the first day of the 19th Battle Royale. For the second time, the loudspeakers gave off a high pitched screech as they were switched on. Like the previous report, it was to open with a song hand-chosen (in reality picked from _YouTube_) by the people in charge. In a contrast to six hours ago, the sound of soft guitar strumming and gentle drum beat began playing. Though it was a tad ironic that it was in the Battle Royale of all things, _Blessid Union of Souls_ was currently being broadcast all over the island.

"_Brother, my brother,  
Tell me what are we fighting for?  
We've got to end this war.  
We should love one another  
Oh, can't we just pretend  
This war never began  
We can try...  
Brother my brother._"

* * *

Arthur Turner (Male #20) wanted nothing more than to find the nearest loudspeaker and lodge a bullet into its circuitry. The only thing stopping him was that he'd probably receive some kind of punishment for it, and that was something he did _not_ want to experience. But there was no doubt the song choice was directed at both him and his brother, and was referencing the violent falling out they had a while back.

The music was beginning to fade out, so Arthur quickly reached inside the bag and pulled out the map and pen, removing them from the protective plastic pouch. Five of his classmates and four danger zones had been crossed off already, and the number of both was only going to increase, unless by some miracle nobody had been killed and the instructors were going to be extraordinarily lenient with the zones.

"_Good afternoon, everyone,_" came the voice of Hanako Yamada once the song had been completely muted. "_I hope you're not all kicking back and taking an early lunch break, because I have to say I am fairly disappointed in how you're getting on. In the last six hours, we've had only two deaths. Yes, count them: one, two. Taro really did think that excellent start to this month's game would continue, but I guess he was wrong._" There seemed to be a sigh of exasperation from the Japanese female, but she quickly composed herself for the next part. Arthur also sighed along with her, though it was a sigh of relief. Two deaths compared to the five six hours prior, it was a remarkable improvement.

"_I guess I should reveal their identities, so in order of death, they were Female #5: Caroline Easton and Male #21: Mark Turner._"

Arthur froze and dropped the pen halfway through crossing out Caroline's name. All his relief had been replaced by sheer horror and disbelief in a heartbeat upon hearing the one name he never wanted to hear over the announcement.

"_I suppose I should congratulate Male #20 for managing to outlive his older brother, so well done to you,_" Hanako continued, Arthur so in shock he didn't even register that the last comment was dedicated to him. "_For the danger zones, while I'm tempted to introduce extra ones to speed things up around here, I'm restricted from doing so until midnight tonight, so count yourselves lucky. I hope you're ready to write these down, because I'm not going to repeat these: at 1pm, A5 becomes active; at 3pm, you'd want to vacate G9 as quickly as possible and at 5pm, D2 is the new danger zone. That's everything I have to say for this report, Taro will be here to give you the report at 6pm, and I will be back to welcome the survivors to Day 2. So if you want to live until then, fight hard and make us all proud!"_ And with a loud clicking sound, silence once again reigned over the island. Silence was also reigning in the part of the island where Arthur was located, the boy not making a single sound as he struggled to come to terms with Mark's untimely passing.

'_He's dead. Mark's... dead._' It was all that was running through Arthur's head at that moment. He was mortified, so fixated on the death of his brother that he didn't even finish marking down all the crucial information he needed. '_Mark's dead, I shot at him… I hit him… and now he's dead. I… I killed him._'

It was all too much for the youngest student and he passed out right there on the spot, collapsing to the ground. The map escaped the grip of his hand and slid to the ground by his body.

* * *

'_I sent her to her death,_' Victoria Norton (Female #15) thought as she crossed D2 off her map with a shaky hand, the action made even more difficult by the map wriggling in front of her eyes and tear drops threatening to wash the fresh black marker ink off the paper. '_I shouldn't have left her alone. I should've teamed up with her. If only she'd stayed with me, or didn't even try to help me with my goal…_'

There were a lot of should haves and ifs racing through her mind as she blubbed uncontrollably and suppressed an urge to throw up, but none of them would bring Caroline Easton (Female #5) back to life. Though Victoria's ultimate mission was to prevent as many deaths as possible, the cruel irony was that it had most likely caused the death of her best friend.

'_The mission… should I just give it all up?_'

At that moment, the idea seemed like a perfect one, but with Hanako's announcement over and her loud echoing voice gone, the faint sound of crashing waves was now audible again. As it turned out, Victoria had nearly reached the coast when she'd stopped to write the information down, just a couple hundred yards from the destination she had set for herself all that time ago.

'_No. I'm so close, and Caroline would have wanted me to complete it,_' she thought, wiping the tears away and roughly shoving the map inside the bag. She stood up and began resuming the trek towards the noise, the din growing louder with each step she took nearer the cliffs. It had taken her longer, a lot longer, than she had wished to reach this point, but the finishing post was in sight. Once she disposed of all the weapons in her bag, the first leg of her task would be over and the next would immediately begin.

Victoria dropped the duffel bag on the ground, feeling the heavy weight lift off her shoulder, and in a metaphorical sense, her chest as well. The bag was still unzipped, and with the strong wind being channeled up the rocky cliff face and rushing over the grass where she stood, she had to grab the map and tuck it further into her bag to prevent it from being blown away and lost. '_Here we go, no time to lose,_' Victoria thought, still marveling that she had actually reached this point and feeling it was a miracle she was still alive to go through with her plan.

First to go would be her designated weapon.

She grabbed the wooden handle of the hatchet, yanking the heavy weapon out of her bag with all the strength she could gather, and then approached to just a yard or two from the edge. Slowly swinging the large axe back first for added momentum, she hurled it forwards, blade spinning over handle before plummeting down out of sight and out of mind. There was no way anyone else would be able to retrieve it, not without losing their head in the process. "One down, two to go," she said to herself, feeling immensely proud.

Next on the list were the large paintball gun and the smaller Desert Eagle, both weapons that Caroline had provided her with. Victoria was torn as she gazed at the two guns in her duffel bag. She knew she had to get rid of them, but at the same time, she wanted to keep them as gifts, mementos even of her dearly departed friend. '_This isn't going to be easy,_' Victoria thought, bending down to pick the pistol up, feeling like she was about to throw a part of her best friend away with it.

There was a soft rustle of the longer grass being pushed aside. If it hadn't been for a sudden lull in the wind, she might never have heard it. Looking up from the bag before she could grab the gun, she saw another one of her peers standing several feet away.

Lee Dawford (Male #5) had arrived on the scene, and knowing his reputation for being a die-hard fan of the Program, Victoria would have been terrified for her life. However, she couldn't help but laugh when she saw the white spork that he was holding in his right hand. '_Hah! That's what he gets for being such a supporter of this slaughter-fest,_' she thought, feeling vindicated. That was until she saw him charge right at her.

It didn't take a genius to figure out what Lee was up to; he was going to push Victoria off the cliff, and then possibly claim a weapon for himself. Victoria yelped, her legs buckling and causing her to fall backwards onto her behind, making her even more of a sitting duck. Lee was closing the gap and was going to reach her in a matter of seconds. Without even knowing what she was doing, Victoria pointed the gun at Lee and fired it.

The next thing Victoria knew, Lee cried out and fell flat on his face just feet from her. She shrieked and dropped the firearm onto the ground like it was burning her palm. It wasn't the fact she'd been carrying the gun with the safety off that horrified her. It was the fact she'd just fired the gun at somebody.

'_Ohcrudohcrudohcrud,_' Victoria thought, covering her mouth as the horrid churning sensation made itself present in her stomach again. '_I just killed Lee._' As if solely to prove her wrong, Lee groaned and then looked up at Victoria, hissing from the fiery pain shooting up from his right foot, which it turned out had been where her bullet had ended up hitting.

"You _bitch!_" he roared. Victoria screamed again and instinctively picked the gun up again to point it at his head, an act which shut Lee up and reduced him to staring down the barrel of the gun.

'_Oh my God… what the heck's got into me?!_' she thought, managing to stop herself from squeezing the trigger and ending Lee's wretched life. '_I don't want to kill him!_' Getting back to her feet and turning around on the spot, she hurled the Desert Eagle over the edge of the cliff to join the hatchet, much to Lee's utter bewilderment and mild disappointment. Then grabbing the duffel bag by the strap, Victoria made a dash away from the fallen adolescent, running for all she was worth. Now she was liberated of the hatchet that had weighed her down for so long, she found it a lot easier to flee.

'_He was unarmed, he freaking nearly killed me when he was unarmed!_' Victoria thought, slowing down to a jog when she was a considerable distance away. It brought home just how dangerous her plan truly was. If it hadn't been for shooting Lee, no matter how much she hated herself for it, she would currently be lying dead at the foot of the cliffs, either killed by smashing into the rocks or her collar blowing up in mid-fall.

Once she slowed down to a stop to catch her breath, Victoria searched through her bag to check her map hadn't fallen out. It was still in there, as well as something else; the paintball gun. Victoria had forgotten about it in the chaos that ensued after Lee's disastrous attack, but when she thought about it, it was a blessing that she hadn't got rid of it. Though it was a non-fatal weapon, it was still painful – Victoria could testify to that first hand. And at the bare minimum, it was something to intimidate the other students with.

The first part of Victoria's mission was considered a partial success. For the next part, well, hopefully things went a lot more smoothly.

* * *

Lee moaned and rolled on the spot, careful not to roll right off the edge of the cliff. He had been close, so agonizingly close to getting that girl's gun, and instead he got a bullet through the foot. And then to add insult to his injury, she had inexplicably (well, to him anyway) thrown the pistol away afterwards.

'_What the hell was the point of that?_' Lee thought, blinking away tears not only by induced by pain, but by the unfairness of it all. A spork for a starter weapon, then a feather duster from that dumb bitch Tamsin, and now he was going to be reduced to hobbling everywhere without even gaining a weapon for his troubles. As far as setbacks go, this was a biggie and quite possibly a deadly one as well. But Lee would not give up that easily, not if he wanted to win.

Lee slowly and shakily got up, blood dripping down from the sole and the upper of his black tennis shoe, the round having ripped straight through his foot and burying itself deep into the dirt. He was definitely going to be slowed down to staggering or hoping everywhere he went.

He needed a weapon, now more than ever. Looking round behind him, he saw Mt. Blair looming over him from the near distance. He hadn't been in that direction yet, but it looked be a great place to search for any weapons. '_Luck had better be on my side,_' he thought as he limped away inland from the cliffs.

* * *

The post-noon sun shone through the large windows at the top of the lighthouse, the brilliant rays striking the huge lamp housed inside, reflecting off in all directions and filling the room with bright light. However, the mood of the students inside the lighthouse was considerably darker.

Bethany Feldman (Female #7) wasn't actually inside the tall building, currently sitting outside on the balcony where she was supposed to be keeping watch for anybody getting too close for comfort. Though she had nothing like a firearm to actively ward off any threatening intruders, she would still be able to give the others time to prepare and defend themselves, although with their assortment of 'weapons', decent protection was wishful thinking. But when midday had rolled around, she couldn't help but sit down crying on the balcony. The tears she shed weren't for Caroline or Mark though, but for Yvonne Thompson (Female #20).

Since Yvonne was a reporter for the school paper, Bethany had asked her to join up with her and the others while they were all waiting to depart. Yvonne had declined her offer though, planning on meeting up with Isabel instead, who had already left by the time Bethany asked. When the first announcement went out and her associate's name came straight off the bat, Bethany knew Yvonne's decision was a fatal one. She'd broke down sobbing, constantly blaming and telling herself that she should have tried harder to convince the girl to join her. Hearing another list of dead classmates only reminded her of her previous failure.

Perry Carter (Male #4) was inside the room with the two other members of their little group, sitting facing the glass door leading out to the balcony. He too was saddened by the seven deaths that had occurred, constantly thinking of those who were close to the deceased and how they were coping with their losses.

Whitney Johannsen's (Female #12) condition hadn't changed much, if at all, since their arrival. She was still just staring straight ahead from where she sat (opposite Perry and right by the doorway) and continued to occasionally mumble apologies to 'Duncan'. It was an action that honestly creeped the hell out of her companions in the lamp room, and try as they might, they couldn't snap her out of it.

And then Fumiko Igarashi (Female #11) didn't know what to feel as she sat beside Perry, looking out the door Bethany who was still sobbing quietly. Back home in Pinefalls, she feared the Program like the boogeyman, frightened it was going to snatch her and drag her into the darkness when she least expected it. School trips, special assemblies and even immunization rallies would send the East Asian girl into a panic, believing each of them were merely guises to gather the necessary students up for the Program. Back in November, Fumiko had freaked out during the class trip to Chicago, thinking Caroline had passed out next to her from a sleeping agent released on the coach. Panic broke out on the packed vehicle, but it turned out that Caroline had only dozed off from being unable to sleep the previous night. Fumiko was instantly labeled as paranoid and an attention seeker by the meaner students, and also risked being suspended for her disruption.

But now she was actually in the Battle Royale and experiencing it first hand, she wasn't panicking or losing her head like she thought she would. It was like a switch had been pulled inside her brain the moment she got up to leave the classroom, her mind switched to run on 'survival mode'.

"Maybe Hanako was right after all, maybe I did get my dad's winning genes," she sighed to herself as she recalled the last words that Hanako Yamada had said to her right as she departed the school. As ridiculous and improbable as the notion sounded, it would certainly explain why she felt the way she did.

"Winning jeans?" Perry asked, looking round to face her. "Are those what you're wearing? I'd have thought your dad's pants would be a bit too big for you," he continued, trying to lighten the situation some, Fumiko rolling her eyes in response.

"You and Bethany weren't there when she told me that. Whitney was, but…" She trailed off as she glanced back over to Whitney, still sitting silently opposite them, staring into space and not even acknowledging her words or their stares. If she could remember anything that had transpired back in the school, she was in no fit state to tell them. "Well, Hanako mentioned something about my dad to me and everyone else just before I left."

"What, was he… was he killed too?" he asked, whispering the last few words in case Bethany could hear their conversation from outside. She had now stopped crying, but setting her off bawling again was something Perry did not want to accomplish.

"No, far from it," Fumiko replied, taking a deep breath to ready herself for what she was about to tell the boy sitting next to him. "My dad was the winner of a Battle Royale back in the Republic of Greater East Asia."

"No way…" Perry gawped in a low tone, then remained silent for a while as the information sunk in. "How come you didn't tell us this before?" he eventually asked.

"It wasn't something I wanted to go round telling everyone," Fumiko replied, craning her head down. "It has that... that kind of stigma attached to it, you know?"

Perry nodded in understandment. "Do you... know what he did?" he tentatively asked. "I mean, do you know if he only killed in self-defense, because he had to?"

"I don't know anything about what actually happened inside the Program, it was way before everything was televized," Fumiko said, shaking her head. "Besides, I don't want to know what my dad did and he probably wouldn't tell me even if I did ask. The only thing I do know is that he… he had to have killed someone." She brought her head up again, looking up to the ceiling. For a few minutes, nobody said anything, the silence broken only by the squawks of a few seagulls circling around the tall structure, and also by an incoherent mumble from Whitney. "My dad told me one time that his girlfriend said she would be devastated if he died in the Program," Fumiko finally said.

"I bet she was overjoyed that he survived then," Perry said, putting his hands behind his head to make himself more comfortable.

"He said she broke up with him immediately afterwards, said she could never look him in the eye again after what he did," Fumiko explained, Perry raising hs eyebrows in surprise; that wasn't the outcome he was expecting. "He even told her that she was the reason he wanted to survive, and she still left him."

"That... that's horrible!" Perry said loudly, sounding outraged by the tale. "What a bitch, what did his parents think of her after that?" he asked.

"His parents were already dead," Fumiko flatly replied. Perry instantly regretted his last question and covered his mouth, feeling like he'd just crammed his foot inside it. "They hanged themselves when they learnt of his induction, like they'd given up all hope of seeing him again." Fumiko then laughed, but it was a laugh at the irony of it all, and held absolutely no trace of humor. "My dad won the Program, and in the process, he lost everything that meant anything to him. How messed up is that?"

Perry stayed silent, instantly having an image of his parents and his older brother Peter dangling from nooses in their home living home, and shivered slightly at the mere thought of that. "So what did your dad do afterwards?" the blond boy asked, hoping something positive was going to follow.

"He started getting a lifetime's pension for surviving the Battle Royale," Fumiko explained. "So he started saving it all up, and then moved to America as soon as possible so he could finally escape the country, the Program and what it did to him. And that's where he met my mother."

"Your mom is American?" Perry asked, remembering seeing her at a parent-teacher meeting a couple years ago. Like Fumiko's father, she looked Asian and spoke limited English with quite a strong foreign accent. "She didn't sound it."

"She isn't though. She was also from the RGEA, but had already moved to America with her family when she was in her early teens. A lot of parents did the same thing; they didn't want their child to grow up in a society where there was a chance they'd be killed in a government-sanctioned death match, and I wouldn't blame them one bit."

"A bit like some families moving to Canada, Mexico and England to avoid it here," Perry said.

"Exactly," Fumiko responded. "Long story short, my mom and dad got together, eventually married and seventeen years ago I was born," Fumiko said. "With my sole purpose in life to entertain the masses in the very thing my parents sought to avoid in the first place," she bitterly added on.

"The universe really has a fucked up sense of humor sometimes," Perry muttered.

"Don't it just? Just a few weeks ago my parents were even discussing moving out of the States when they finally raised the money," Fumiko said. "Oh God, I'm never going to see them again, am I?"

"Look, don't worry about it, things'll turn out fine," Perry said, though it was an obvious lie to try and make Fumiko feel better. Even though nothing had happened to them in the hiding place so far, he had absolutely no way of telling what could occur in the hours to come. After briefly resting a hand on Fumiko's shoulder, he stood up to look out the window at the distant form of Mount Blair. Glancing out through the glass doors, Fumiko saw that Bethany had also got back to her feet and was resuming her task of keeping lookout. Fumiko checked the time on her watch; she would have to go out and take over her job in just a few minutes.

"You mentioned something about winning," Perry suddenly spoke to her, looking seriously at the girl. "Does that mean you're going to… take part to win?"

"No," Fumiko replied, knowing what he was getting at. "I'm not going to." Perry nodded, giving her a brief smile and then looked back out the window, gazing over the scenery while Fumiko just remained where she sat.

Worried she'd just told Perry the biggest lie in her life.

* * *

**End of Hour 13**

**Hours Remaining: 59  
Students Eliminated in Hour 13: None  
Students Remaining: 37**

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* * *

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_A/N: In just a few weeks (4th May to be exact), it will have been a whole year since the first chapters were uploaded to the site. Hopefully I'll be able to fit in another chapter before that date_**_._  
**


	19. Hour 14: Nutural Born Killer

**Hour 14: 13:00 – 13:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

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* * *

**

The weather was being especially kind to the thirty-seven students left in the 19th Battle Royale, though in all honesty, it was the only thing being kind to them. Glorious sunshine, temperatures in the mid-seventies and only a few clouds scattered over the horizon. However, some of the students were more content to be cooped up indoors or in a dark hideaway. Like, for example, in the East Blair Tunnel.

The man-made tunnel that bored underneath the eastern slope of Mt. Blair was dark, dank and looked like a place no one in their right mind would want to spend their last hours. That was the reason why Samantha Barker (Female #1) and Vance Petrovic (Male #15) had decided to hide out there. After all, the best place to hide would be a place no one else wanted to go to, right?

After the unfortunate encounter with and subsequent death of Francesca Young (Female #22), the track runner and the delinquent had continuously been on the move together, only coming to a rest when they reached the southern portal of the tunnel. Though they were only a few meters inside the subterranean passageway and could still see well enough, as long as they covered their collars up, they were practically invisible to anyone who would be walking past outside.

"A5's a danger zone now," Samantha said quietly, glancing at her map as she leant against the cool stone tunnel wall. Her statement didn't make much of a difference, as she'd already crossed off the three new forbidden areas off her map. Vance hadn't even bothered to get his map out of his bag since the start of the Program, having relied on Samantha the whole time to direct them around the island.

"That's great," he half-heartedly replied from next to her, looking glum in the weak light from outside the tunnel. As they'd been making their way to the tunnel, Vance had barely said anything at all and was constantly keeping his face trained on the ground; he basically looked depressed as hell, and Samantha had noticed.

"Okay, you've been like for the past few hours, what's up?" she asked. Vance didn't reply to her question straight away, and for a moment Samantha thought he was simply ignoring her. "Vance?" she repeated. "Are you okay?"

"I've been thinking," Vance finally said, though he didn't elaborate any further than his initial statement.

"About what?" Samantha asked, trying to coax him to speak more and herself wondering if it was anything to do with Francesca. She couldn't stop thinking about how she had been forced to attack the girl, even though it was in self-defense and the plastic hammer wasn't going to do any harm to her.

There was a longish pause before Vance finally answered her, his response preceded by a heavy sigh. "...about Corey," he said.

"Corey's going to be fine," Samantha immediately said. "His name hasn't come up in either of the reports-"

"That's not what I'm worried about," Vance interrupted her. "I saw Corey as soon as I got out of the classroom. I called out to him, but he ignored me and ran off. Don't you think that's mighty strange?"

Samantha had to admit that it did indeed sound strange. Vance and Corey had been good friends for a long time now, so for Corey to just run off and abandon his buddy, that was weird indeed. "Why would he do that?" she asked.

"I didn't know either at first, but I thought about it, and I think I know why now," Vance said. "If Corey was with me…" he paused, exhaling sharply. "If Corey was with me, he wouldn't be able to go out killing the others."

"What?!" Samantha exclaimed, her loud voice echoing off the walls lining the tunnel. "Are... are you seriously telling me that Corey could be out there, right this second, killing our classmates?" she asked, desperately hoping Vance was going to prove her wrong, her mouth agape in shock.

"Exactamundo," Vance flatly said.

"No, no way!" Samantha adamantly said and raised her voice. "Corey wouldn't do such a thing!"

"I don't want to believe it either, but… but we have to face the facts. You know how he hates everyone else in the class."

"I wouldn't say he hates everyone," Samantha said, trying to defend Corey. It was true that he was a loner, and like Vance, he wasn't too friendly with the rest of his classmates, and a handful of them weren't friendly back.

"You know Corey's dad was jailed a month ago for drug possession?" Vance asked.

"I think the whole school knew, thanks to Bethany's article in the school paper," Samantha said.

"I think it might have tipped him over the edge," Vance spoke. "Ever since his dad got put away, he's been angry all the time, lashing out at people more often. It's like he's holding a grudge against the world. He's like… it's like he's a time bomb, and I'm worried this is going to make him explode."

This was shocking news to Samantha. The only thing she'd noticed about Corey was that he had started skipping school more often since his father's imprisonment, and was avoiding everyone else, including her. In fact, she'd only seen him three or four times between then and the day they were all abducted. Samantha looked away from Vance and stared at the tunnel ceiling directly above her head. Her eyes focused on a dim red light that marked the position of a camera and a minature radio transmitter. '_They're watching all this back in the school, they'll be watching what Corey's doing as well, they'd know if he really is a killer,_' she thought, subconsciously shifting her left hand slightly so it rested on Vance's uninjured right. '_Could he really be one...?_' The very idea that one of the people she hung around with could be out there murdering her classmates, that was extremely hard to get her head around. As she put her fingers around Vance's hand, she hoped that Vance was completely wrong about Corey. Though she didn't know it, Vance was practically praying the same thing.

* * *

_**Wednesday 11th June 2014**_

_The skate park that was adjacent to the Pinefalls park wasn't all that big, but to Vance, it was a great place to hang out, act out and occasionally wipe out from time to time. Despite it being the middle of the school day, he was more than content to kill some time by sitting on one of the ramps instead of wasting it in his lessons. It was the day before his class's school trip, and he wasn't looking forward to it at all. If it wasn't for the harsh disciplinary action that would be undertaken if he didn't attend, he would skip it._

_As he idly sat and drank a milkshake he'd purchased from the nearby fast food restaurant, he noticed someone approaching the skate park. At first, he thought it was a cop, probably coming to drag him back to school. Then he saw the beanie on the person's head and the jacket he was wearing (out of place in the middle of June, Vance could admit), very familiar clothes that belonged to a very familiar person._

_"Corey?" Vance called out, noticing his friend making his way to the skate park, board under his arm and a can of beer in his hand. Judging from the way he was staggering slightly, that wasn't his first beer. Corey looked up, saw Vance, and then turned around and started heading back the way he came at an increased pace. "Hey, Corey, where're you going?" Vance asked loudly, leaping from the half pipe and running after him. Corey tried to run faster, but in his tipsy state, he ended up tripping over and falling on his face on the freshly mown grass._

_"Corey, why are you avoiding me?" Vance asked, catching up to the fallen boy. "You haven't been in school the past week, what's up?"_

_"You don't care about me, so don't bother asking," Corey replied, rolling over onto his back and sitting up, spitting out a few blades of grass that had made their way into his mouth._

_"How can you say that? I'm your friend for God's sake!"_

_"Yeah, well, you're the only one," Corey grumbled, picking up the can of beer and downing what hadn't spilled out when he fell. "No one else gives a fuck about me," he bitterly said. "When my dad got put away, nobody felt sorry for me. They all felt sorry for Victoria when her dad was killed. Me? They just either made fun of me for being the son of a druggie, or they wanted nothing more to do with me."_

_"Just ignore them, they're just a bunch of selfish assholes," Vance sighed._

_"Oh, don't worry, I'll wipe the smiles off their faces soon enough," Corey said, grinning rather wickedly._

_"Oh? What did you have in mind?" Vance asked, sounding genuinely intrigued. "A bit of vandalism to their property? Humiliate them in public?"_

_"No, better than that," Corey said. "I just need to get my hands on a gun first."_

_At once, Vance's grin faded, replaced by a look of shock. "A… a gun? Why?" he asked, though he feared he already knew the answer._

_"What do you think, dumbass? I'm gonna take it with me to school and start having a bit of target practice with the students."_

_The blood in Vance's veins felt like it had turned to ice, and he could feel his heart starting to thump harder in his chest. '_Am I hearing right? Is my friend actually telling me he's going to go on a shooting spree at school?!_' he thought, starting to feel slightly faint just thinking about it. Images of Corey sprang into his mind, images of him marching through the corridors of Pinefalls High and pumping lead indescriminately into random students._

_"That'll show 'em," Corey said, starting to giggle. "The cheerleaders, the people behind the school paper and anyone else who happens to be in my way. They'll all just gonna go away, never to taunt or torture me again."_

_"Corey, you're seriously starting to scare me," Vance said._

_"Oh for fuck's sake, man, I'm only messing about, I'm not really gonna go through with it!" Corey said, punching Vance lightly on the arm before laying back on the grass and laughing, though Vance guessed the fit of hysterics stemmed from the alcohol he'd drunk beforehand. "You should have seen your face though. Priceless!"_

_"Dude, promise me you won't do it," Vance practically ordered him, pulling him up by the front of his jacket so Corey's face was just inches away from his._

_"What the hell're you doing?" Corey angrily said. "Get off me!"_

_"Do you realize how much shit you'd get into if you _said_ that kind__ of thing at school?" Vance spoke, trying to hammer it into Corey's brain. "They'd kick your ass out, hell you might even end up being locked up." He nearly added on "like your dad", but reminding Corey of his father's antics would only piss him off further.  
_

_"I just said I won't do it for real, geez!" Corey groaned, rapidly getting to his feet, a marvel considering his drunken state. "If you're gonna be like this, then I'm going home," he said, gathering up his board and leaving the empty beer can on the grass as he started to walk away from Vance._

_'_He's only joking, that makes it all okay, right?_' Vance thought as he looked at the figure of Corey crossing the street in the distance. Even though Corey had assured him he wouldn't do something so horrific, there was still that little bit of doubt lingering in Vance's system._

_

* * *

_

Though the two people considered his closest (if not only) companions were hoping he wasn't 'playing the game', Corey O'Donoghue (Male #14) had already proved them wrong ages ago. Samantha and Vance would have been glad to know that he hadn't managed to kill anyone, but they would have been mortified if they knew he had attempted to, and that he'd been badly injured instead.

When he and everyone else knew the reason for being drugged up and dragged off to Dante's Island, he knew there was only one thing he should do, and that was play to win. The other students in his class, they had pushed and shunned him for too long, and he wasn't going to take it anymore. And the Program was the perfect chance to get revenge.

As soon as he'd left the school, he hid and laid in wait, checking his weapon and was immensely pleased with the gun and silencer he'd been given. When Kirsty Nichols (Female #14) had walked out next, clutching her bag and trembling like a leaf, Corey had nearly shot her between her pretty blue eyes there and then without even attaching the silencer to the barrel. But before he could pull the trigger, Kirsty had nervously called out to Mallory, and then walked away to some hedges further down the road. He'd crept out of the bushes to get a better look, wondering if all four of the cheerleaders had planned to group up. If it was the case, it would be the perfect scenario for him. Out of everyone in the class who made his life hell, they were the worst offenders, so if he could take them all out at once, it would save him a great deal of time that would have otherwise been spent tracking each of them down individually.

Then Vance had to go and come out the school next.

He'd locked eyes with his friend, and immediately ran off, diving behind some trees. As much as would have liked to, he couldn't team up with Vance, not if he wanted to carry out his plan. Judging from Vance's reaction when he'd told him two days ago of the school shooting, he knew that his friend would want no part in reducing the competition. His loss then.

Some minutes later, he circled back round to the school entrance, Vance fortunately having moved on. Corey's earlier hunch had proved to be correct; Leah and Imani left later on and did indeed join up with the other half of their squad. But before he could get a chance to pick them off, they were already making their way to the diner, so he had no choice but to stealthily follow them until they had all settled down some hours later.

It was going to be glorious. Killing all four cheerleaders and then moving on to the rest of his classmates to emerge as the victor...

...and it all backfired horribly before he could even claim his first victim. Instead of having the four girl's bodies splayed out around and in the building, he was now tied up and helpless with a round buried in his shoulder.

'_Could've been worse, I could be dead right now. Or Imani could've got my right shoulder and I'd have no feeling in my firing arm instead of my left. That would be a disast-_"

"Dinner's ready!"

Corey's pondering was brought to a halt by none other than Tamsin Forrest (Female #8) who was helping Kirsty carry out several bowls, steam rising out of them. He noticed that Kirsty was holding three and Tamsin held two. '_Five meals for five girls. None for me I take it,_' Corey thought, his stomach suddenly rumbling quietly, making him aware of how hungry he actually was, having not eaten since just before six o'clock.

Mallory Derwent (Female #4) and Imani Velasquez (Female #21) immediately took a bowl each and began to eat what looked like some kind of broth. Whatever it was, it seemed to be good.

"Mm! This stuff is good, it's a lot better than those damn rolls!" Mallory enthusiastically said through a mouthful of chicken soup, noodles and diced carrots, onions and celery.

"Thank you," Tamsin proudly said, handing a bowl to Leah Smith (Female #18), who didn't eat it straight away, preferring to leave it to cool before tucking in. "Though Kirsty did all the hard work, I only helped." Corey looked on; as much as he wanted something to eat, he didn't want the girls' charity. Too bad for him that Imani had noticed his glances in their direction.

"I think we should give some of this stuff to Corey, he's looking hungry," Imani suggested.

"You are kidding, right?" Kirsty replied, brushing some wayward strands of blonde and pink hair of her hair. "He nearly killed you and you want to give him some of our food?"

"I feel sorry for shooting him, that's all," Imani reasoned.

"He doesn't deserve any, he can make do with a roll," Kirsty adamantly spoke, wondering who this girl was and what she'd done with the real Imani Velasquez.

"Just let him have a little bit, what's wrong with that?" Tamsin suggested, tucking into her own meal.

"Whose side are you on, Tam?" Kirsty asked.

"Look, I'll go and get some myself then." Standing up, Imani went to walk up the steps inside the diner. Tamsin and Leah looked round, finding Imani's generosity, especially to Corey of all people, to be extremely out of character. There was a sudden clatter and a loud cursing from inside the building, then a few seconds later, Imani walked out, carrying a bowl and spoon with soup splashed over her hands and looking annoyed.

"Can you give this to Corey? I dropped a bowl on the floor and I need to go clean it up," Imani said, handing the warm bowl to Kirsty and disappearing back inside the diner before she could protest.

"What did your last servant die of?" Kirsty muttered to herself, before sighing and marching over to Corey, bowl and spoon in hand. Corey noticed the girl approaching and glared daggers at her.

"I don't want any," he spoke, though the second he said this, his stomach rumbled again, much more loudly this time and audible to Kirsty at least.

"Your stomach disagrees with you," she said, sitting down opposite Corey, but then having to scoot backwards when he tried to head butt her. "Do you want to be fed or not? If we wanted to, we could just leave you to starve to death."

"Okay, okay," Corey said in some pathetic form of an apology. "Just untie my hands so I can eat-"

"I am not untying your hands," Kirsty interrupted, Corey looking downright disappointed at hearing this. "I'm not risking you breaking free and mowing us all down."

"Screw you," he angrily spat back.

"Shut up so I can give you this," Kirsty said, dipping the spoon into the bowl of soup and shoving it into Corey's mouth. "After what you tried to do to us, you're lucky you're even getting anything to eat at all."

"Mmmph!" Corey moaned and scrunched up his eyes, feeling the hot noodle soup burning his tongue and the roof of his mouth. '_Couldn't you have cooled it down a bit first you dumb bitch?_' he spitefully thought, swallowing it down. "Too hot," he said, coughing a little.

"Okay, I'll let it cool down a bit," Kirsty sighed. Corey coughed again, louder this time, but because he couldn't cover his mouth, Kirsty ended up getting drops of saliva and residual broth sprayed over her. '_Gross,_' she thought, waiting a few minutes before spooning up so Corey wouldn't complain at her. Corey reluctantly opened his mouth a second time and let Kirsty feed him. Now it was slightly cooler, he could appreciate the flavor more. Mallory was right, it was a lot, _lot_ better than the bread rolls, and probably more nourishing as well. And if he wanted to last long in the competition, he needed all the nourishment he could get.

And then Corey discovered he wasn't able to swallow properly.

Instead of going all the way down his esophagus, the food got stuck at the back of his throat. He coughed loudly and brought most of the soup back up and spewed it out, Kirsty shrieking and shifting further away from him. "What the hell's your problem?!" she screamed at him, wiping a soggy noodle and a piece of celery off her arm.

"I can't… I ca-" He was trying to say that he couldn't swallow the soup, but seconds later, he became unable to do something else, something much more vital.

He couldn't breathe.

"Corey…?" Kirsty asked, unaware that Corey's airway was blocked to the point that he couldn't breathe in or out. Corey grunted loudly, attracting the attention of the other girls, still leisurely eating their dinner a short distance away and completely unaware of the drama that was to follow.

"Kirsty, what's going on over there?" Mallory asked, looking round in their direction. "Is he trying to escape?"

"I don't know what he's doing!" Kirsty replied, watching Corey with some amount of growing panic, worried that he actually was trying to break free. When she finally noticed he wasn't making any coherent sounds apart from some wheezing and then collapsed onto his side to flop around like a dying fish, the color drained from her face. "Oh my God, I think he's choking!" she screamed.

Mallory and Leah immediately leapt to their feet and sprinted over to where Kirsty and Corey were, while Tamsin just stayed where she sat, either unsure what to do or paralyzed by fear, or even both. Imani poked her head out from the diner and when she saw what was going on, she rushed out to try and help her squad members.

Corey's body was beginning to spasm wildly, his tar-caked lungs burning as carbon dioxide built up in his system and his body became starved of oxygen. He tried to look around him, the girls' panicked voiced starting to sound faint and muffled, though he swore he could hear Mallory ask the others if any of them knew CPR or the other technique. His vision was getting blurry, then eventually faded to black as he passed out from hypoxia. One last thought crossed his mind before he slipped away; '_I never thought I'd go like this, trying to be saved by the fuckin' earbleeders._'

Then his collar stopped flashing.

* * *

"Oh my God…" Kirsty gasped, noticing the absence of any light coming from Corey's collar. "He-he's dead!" For what seemed like several minutes, nobody said a word as they stared at the body, the silence only broken by Leah's gasping and Tamsin throwing up in the background. Then the silence was broken a second time, much more loudly this time.

"You _idiot!_"

The next thing Kirsty knew, Mallory had marched right up to her and was screaming into her face. "You choked him to death! You killed him!"

"I-I didn't mean to!" Kirsty defended herself, putting her hands up in case Mallory went to strike her. "I didn't mean to…" She fell backwards onto her behind, sobbing loudly as tears streaked down her face.

"How do we know you didn't mean to?" Imani said. "You seemed pretty pissed off when I asked you to give him some food."

"I was pissed off because that bastard nearly killed you, and given half the chance, he would have killed us all. And then you of all people wanted me to treat him like he's part of the family!" Kirsty argued at Imani, then realized she'd just given out a possible motive for murdering Corey. "But that doesn't mean I planned to or wanted to kill him!"

While Imani and Kirsty continued to argue, Leah meanwhile was looking down at Corey's corpse and was frowning. Something just wasn't right about his face, and as she knelt beside his still-warm body to have a closer look, she saw exactly what was up. His lips and throat were badly swollen and the parts of his face around the mouth and nose were covered in red blotches, symptoms that weren't consistent with choking to death. '_Something's not right here,_' she thought. She saw the bowl of broth that Corey had been fed, still standing upright when Kirsty had put it on the floor, and picked it up, having a sniff at the contents.

One thing that Leah considered to be a benefit of having Asperger's Syndrome was that she had been gifted with certain heightened senses. That included a stronger sense of smell, so she was able to pick out scents and flavors that went unnoticed by other people. And there was one aroma amongst the chicken soup and the vegetables that particularly stood out, one that hadn't appeared in her meal. And when she realized what that particular smell was, she gasped and dropped the bowl out of shock, cracking it and spilling the lukewarm broth over the grass.

She could smell peanuts.

And every single person in the clearing knew full well that Corey had a bad peanut allergy.

"G-guys, Corey didn't choke!" she shouted out, immediately understanding what must have happened. Someone, one of the four girls who had been with her for hours, had deliberately killed him.

* * *

**End of Hour 14**

**Hours Remaining: 58  
Students Eliminated in Hour 14: Male #14 – Corey O'Donoghue  
Students Remaining: 36**

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* * *

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_A/N: Three Days to Kill is now exactly one year old! Hard to believe I uploaded the first chapters twelve months ago, it really doesn't feel that long. If I continue at the same pace (19 chapters a year) and go all the way to the 72__nd__ hour, I would be finished in just over three years from now. I'd better get my skates on!_


	20. Hour 15: Aftermath

**Hour 15: 14:00 – 14:59 EDT, Day 1, Fri 13****th**** June 2014**

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* * *

**

As soon as Leah Smith (Female #18) had finished saying her piece, it felt as though all the sound had been sucked from the area. The teenagers in the clearing capable of turning to face her immediately did so, making hardly a sound between them. The birds in the surrounding pine trees had also seemed to stop chirping, leaving the afternoon sun's hot rays to silently beat down on the five living girls and the one dead boy. It was eventually Mallory Derwent (Female #4) who broke the silence.

"What do you mean, "_Corey didn't choke_"?" she asked, looking directly at the face of the brunette who had just alerted them of her suspicions.

"He had an allergic reaction," Leah answered, looking back down at Corey O'Donoghue's (Male #14) still red and swollen face. "I just tasted peanuts in his food, try it if you don't believe me."

"W-what are you trying to say?" Tamsin Forrest (Female #8) timidly asked from behind everyone, wiping some vomit from her chin.

"I'm saying someone purposefully killed him," Leah grimly replied as Mallory walked forward from next to Kirsty Nichols (Female #14) to test some of the broth that hadn't spilled out over the grass. "Everyone knew he was allergic to nuts. Whoever added them knew it was going to kill him."

Mallory gingerly tasted some of the soup for herself. She could just barely taste the peanuts Leah had been going on about, so faint that if she hadn't have been told there was any beforehand, she probably would have missed it. "She's right, there're nuts in here," Mallory confirmed.

"That settles it. Tamsin or Kirsty must've put peanuts into the food to trigger his allergy," Imani Velasquez (Female #21) quickly claimed from behind her. Kirsty immediately gave her a look of indignation and Tamsin looked even more horrified at her accusations.

"How the hell did you work that one out?" Kirsty retorted rather angrily. "We only put the noodles, soup and veg in the pot. We didn't put any nuts in there! For all we know, you could have done it yourself when you went to serve him. I should've known your generosity was all an act!"

"Shut up, God!" Mallory cut in. "I don't see any proof that the others did it, Imani, and the same goes for you two as well," she said, addressing Kirsty and Tamsin.

"We should check inside, maybe we'll find something," Leah put forward, walking to the main door of the diner, carrying her daypack over her shoulder while Mallory followed her. They walked through the main dining area and into the kitchen where the pot sat on the stove. There was some talking from outside, Mallory sighing and choosing to ignore it. No doubt Imani was still trying to point the finger at either Kirsty or Tamsin, or possibly both.

Leah approached the large silver vessel and dipped her finger into the warm stew and brought it back out. There was a slight hesitation before she popped it into her mouth, and was greeted by the familiar nutty taste she found in Corey's bowl.

"There's definitely peanuts in here," Leah announced, wiping her damp finger on her white skirt. Mallory tried a bit as well, wanting to taste it for herself.

"I didn't taste any in my portion though," Mallory said. "So someone put them in after we all got served. That means..." She paused while she came up with a list of suspects in her head, and then eliminated herself and Leah from it. "That means it could have been Imani, Kirsty or-"

"You little bitch!" The pair in the diner instantly recognized the sudden cry as Imani's furious voice.

"What the fuck now?" Mallory asked to herself in an annoyed tone, running to the nearest open window to see what the commotion outside was all about. Poking their heads out, both girls saw Imani had been yelling at an intimidated Tamsin. "Imani, what the hell's going on?" Mallory yelled out.

"I found our little murderess," she replied, opening her hand to show the others what she was clutching within. It was a shiny gold-color packet, specifically one that had previously been holding peanuts. "I saw her pulling this out of her pocket. So come on, Tam. Explain to them what you were doing with it!" Tamsin barely managed an audible squeak, which pissed Imani off further. "There's a gun in one of those bags. I could show you what we do to murdering bitches!"

"I d-didn't p-put any nuts in his f-food," Tamsin stammered, her voice choked from holding back tears of fright.

"Look, Tamsin ate those peanuts as soon as she arrived here," Kirsty quickly explained. "But she finished off the whole packet by the time Mallory walked in on us, there's no way she could have added them to the food if she didn't have any left!"

"So what? There were two packets, what stopped you from eating one and using the other to kill him?" Imani asked, putting her face real close to Tamsin's, so close their noses were almost touching.

"T-two packets? I-I only s-saw one there," Tamsin gibbered as she backed away from Imani, her face as red as Corey's. "I t-took the only one there."

"There were two when I saw them last," Kirsty said, looking confused as she thought back. "I saw both of them on the counter at least a couple of minutes before Imani came in to check on… me…"

It suddenly hit Kirsty like a ton of bricks. Before Imani could object, she approached her and started patting her hands up and down the sides of her torso, searching for something on Imani's person. Imani immediately voiced her outrage.

"What the hell, Kirsty? Get the fuck off of-"

Imani's anger faded into nothingness when a quiet rustling sound emerged from the pocket of her cardigan. Kirsty immediately delved into the pocket the noise had come from. When her hand emerged, it was holding a half-empty gold packet, exactly like the one Imani had found in Tamsin's possession just a few minutes prior.

"I think _you_ need to explain yourself," Kirsty spat, a look of pure disgust now plastered on her face. "It was you all along, wasn't it? _Wasn't it?_"

'_Game's up,_' Imani thought, initially looking flustered, but quickly regained her composure. "It was Corey, for God's sake," she said, thinking it was a rational explanation. "He tried to kill me, he would have killed all of us. Do you really think he deserved to live after what he tried to do?"

"You already shot him in the shoulder, then we immobilized him so he wasn't going to be a danger anymore. There was no need to fucking kill him!" Mallory yelled at her. "That wasn't self-defense, Imani, that was fucking murder!"

"And you were going to blame it on Tamsin," Kirsty said next. "What the hell did she do to you? Was it because she conveniently had another packet?"

"Pretty much," Imani replied with next to no remorse in her voice. "I would have planted mine in her bag sooner or later."

"Then what? Were you going to kill her next and say she deserved it?" Kirsty asked, Tamsin stifling a scream behind her.

There was a short pause, before Imani smirked at Kirsty. "Yeah, I guess I would have." There was another, much longer, pause as all the girls around her digested this shocking piece of information. One of the people they had been friends with, someone they thought they trusted, would have killed an innocent girl just to cover her murderous tracks. Unsurprisingly, Tamsin took the news very badly, much more so than the others, and collapsed onto her backside out of shock.

"Get out of here," Mallory finally hissed, glaring at Imani from the diner. "Get the hell out of my sight and don't even think about coming back, or I'll-"

"Or what, you'll _kill me_?" Imani sneered. "Gee, Mallory. Lashing out at me for killing Corey but when I refuse to leave you're more than happy to kill me. You're such a hypocritical bitch."

"Unlike you, I wasn't going to kill someone innocent," Mallory said, her voice rising as her temper was being stretched to breaking point. "We can do this the easy way, or the hard way, which do you prefer?"

"How about neither?" Imani stated, quickly shoving Kirsty over onto her rear and running to one of the bags. "I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't kill you three, but I'm inclined to change my mind abo-"

There was a sudden soft _PYOOT_ noise, and a water bottle in the bag suddenly burst open, a damp darkness seeping across the khaki material from a neat round hole in the fabric. '_What the hell?_' Imani wondered, jumping up and looking all around her. Tamsin and Kirsty were still on their backsides, looking as shocked as she was, and Corey was still lying there, like a corpse should. Mallory was still at the diner window, but Imani noticed the girl standing beside her, holding the silenced Colt M1911 in her trembling hands.

"T-that was just a warning shot," Leah said, trying hard to keep her voice and hands steady while leaning as far out of the window as possible without losing her balance. She was shaking so much that if she wanted to go one step further and actually shoot Imani, she probably would have missed by a mile. Imani didn't want to risk hanging around to find out if Leah had the guts to pull the trigger a second time, or if the next shot would be a fatal one. Without wasting a second, Imani sprinted towards the safety of the surrounding trees, deftly scooping up the bag closest to her.

Leah did have in her to fire the gun at Imani again, though it was more out of instinct than anything. Another suppressed _PYOOT_ from her gun and the side of a pine tree disintegrated, spewing shreds of bark and minute blobs of sap over the half-Spaniard as she ran past it. And then she was out of sight, enveloped by the flexible pine branches and the shadows that they cast. Drops of water from the split bottle in the bag marked out the path she took, a path that none of them wanted to follow.

"God DAMN that bitch!" Mallory screamed, climbing out of the window and running towards the edge of the forest, fully intent on chasing Imani down. Oh she was livid, she was furious at Imani for betraying them like that, and furious with herself for not spotting the girl's intentions sooner.

"Wait! Mallory! She might have one of our weapons!" Leah shouted out, causing the head cheerleader to stop in her tracks.

"Fuck..." Mallory spoke under her breath. She was completely unarmed, and if Imani had indeed snatched one of the better weapons, going off to find her would just be playing right into her hands. "Let's check what we have left, just so we know what she took," she said as Leah climbed out and jumped from the window sill, nearly twisting her ankle in doing so.

Kirsty got to her feet and rubbed the base of her spine, easing a small twinge where she'd fallen right on her coccyx. She looked through one of the three remaining bags and breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, my katana's still in here," she said.

"Good, that's a promising start," Mallory replied, sounding somewhat relieved. Tamsin watched silently from the sidelines, already familiar with what it felt like to have her bag and weapon stolen. Mallory moved on to another bag and saw it had her grenades. It left a fifty-fifty chance that Imani had picked up a gun, and that statistic was making her worry. Leah had a look in the final bag, hoping that those statistics were in the group's favor.

"We don't have to worry so much now," she said as she pulled the Glock 17 from what turned out to be Imani's pack.

* * *

Once she thought she was a safe distance from the clearing, Imani slowed down to a rest and plopped herself down at the base of a tree. She brushed out some stray bark chips, stuck to her dark hair by blobs of extra sticky sap. '_Gross, just fucking gross,_' she mentally cursed, though she was lucky it was only sap sticking in her hair and not chunks of her brain. '_Goddamnit! That plan could have gone a lot better!_'

It should have been so simple. She'd snatched an inconspicuous packet of nuts and added them in the food when , leading to Corey's death. She was then going to plant the packet in Tamsin's bag while no one noticed, and then later search through the bag and 'discover' it. Tamsin would be killed (by Imani, obviously) and subsequently take the blame for Corey's death with her. But things hadn't gone to plan.

'_A disaster, that's what it was,_' she thought. '_Stupid Kirsty, stupid Tamsin, why did you two have to go and ruin it all?_'

Thanks to Tamsin and Kirsty's observations, that little packet of peanuts wasn't so inconspicuous after all, which led to her cover being blown and her downfall.

She did however grab some form of a consolation prize. The duffel bags had all been lying down close to her, so when she made her 'tactical retreat', she picked one up. In her haste though, she'd picked the bag that Leah had shot, which on closer inspection left her with a burst bottle of water, a map which was reduced to an undecipherable soggy mesh, and some damp bread rolls. However, with the assortment of weapons that the four cheerleaders had been given, the odds that she got one of the better ones were good.

'_Let's see what I got…_' she thought, delving into the bag.

Sadly for Imani, the odds were not in her favor. Instead of the gun, sword or grenades she was hoping for, she pulled out the stuffed toy.

* * *

The scream of fury that the four remaining girls could hear sent shivers down all of their backs. Even though it was faint, it still filled their minds with the same worrying thought; '_Is she going to come back?_' It was quite a few minutes later before they finally took their guards down, certain that she wasn't going to return. Imani may have turned out to be a murdering psycho, but she wasn't stupid. Without a weapon, marching right back to their camp was more or less akin to suicide.

"That was too close," Mallory sighed, sitting down against the side of the diner. Imani was a lost cause now; the girl could have gone in any direction now and it was pointless to try and look for her. Mallory's heart pounded in her chest like a kettledrum, and after what they'd all gone through, it was safe to say that her heart wasn't the only one. It was all too much for one of the girls though.

"I'm going," Tamsin announced, quite out of the blue, as she shakily got back to her feet. "I'm leaving this place, _now_, and I'm going to find Toni."

In all the chaos that had followed Corey's untimely death, Mallory and the others had completely forgotten that Tamsin was going to go off on her own to try and locate her step-sister. And after the events spanning the last twenty minutes, Tamsin just wanted to get away as soon as possible.

"I'm leaving too," Kirsty said.

"Kirsty?" Mallory asked, getting to her feet as well. "Why are you going as well?"

"I am not staying here, it's not safe anymore," Kirsty replied.

"In case you didn't know, Imani is out there. The _whole class_ is out there," Mallory argued. "People are killing each other-"

"Yeah, and another person in our class was killed right under our noses!" Kirsty said, raising her voice as she pointed to Corey's prone body. "What do you think would happen if Imani got her hands on a dangerous weapon? She'd come right back here like a guided missile to kill us all. I'm not prepared to take that risk."

"I still think you're going to get killed out there," Mallory sighed. "But it's going to be useless trying to get you to change your mind, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," Kirsty replied, walking over to her pack and picking it up, as well as helping herself to some rolls from the other bags for Tamsin to eat.

"Wait, Kirsty, if you really are set on going, take this with you," Leah called out, walking up to her and placing the Glock 17 in her hand. "That katana isn't going to be much help, and I know I said last year's winner started out with one of those, but he did get most of his kills using a gun. A Berreta 92FS to be exact… or was it an M92F?"

"Thank-"

"And we'll be fine, I still have Corey's gun and Mallory has her grenades," Leah continued before Kirsty could get a word in edgeways. "So don't worry about our safety, we'll be fine."

"Leah?" Kirsty asked.

"Yes?"

"Stop talking so I can say thank you."

"Oh, sure, sorry," Leah said, realizing she'd gone on rambling about statistics again.

"Okay, Tamsin, let's get going. We have Toni to find," Kirsty said, checking the Glock's safety was on and tucking it barrel-first into the pocket of her shorts.

"S-sure thing," Tamsin timidly replied, still feeling shaken up.

As they started to walk away from the diner in the opposite direction to Imani, Kirsty gave Leah and Mallory one final glance. "Take care you two," she said, then both she and Tamsin left the clearing.

As they left, Mallory and Leah both had a horrible feeling that despite giving their friend a good enough weapon to go with, they would not see her ever again.

* * *

Zachary Reilly (Male #16) had been completely unaware he'd come within 700 meters of a murder. Throughout the duration of the game, there had been a very unfortunate coincidence; whenever there was a death or a dead body, Zachary seemed to be close by. He'd stumbled across Tristan's body lying in the dirt three hours after his death, then after that he'd fled the scene of Mark's fight with Rachel. And judging from the announcement nearly three hours ago, Mark didn't survive the encounter. '_That could have been me on the list,_' Zachary somberly thought. Rachel killed Mark, _he_ had killed Mark. If he'd tried to stop Rachel instead of running away like a coward, perhaps Mark would still be alive. Or they'd both be dead, who knew?

Then there was that scream from somewhere to his south, that horrible female hollering that nearly made him jump out of his skin. It urged Zachary to sprint faster through the forest, ducking and dodging through branches and between trunks. A particularly sharp twig was poking out, and as Zachary run past it, it scratched deeply into his cheek. Hissing out and slowing down to a stop, Zachary put a hand up to his face and felt the wound. It stung to the touch, and bringing his hand back, he could see fresh blood on his fingertips where blood had been drawn.

'_There's a light at the end of the tunnel, every cloud has a silver lining… not here there isn't…_' he thought, continuing the aimless wandering to the west. Then after a while, the literal light at the end of the dense leafy tunnel came into view. The thick forest gave way to a grassy expanse that stretched out before him for fifty or so meters, before abruptly ending at the top of a cliff. And in between him and the sheer drop ahead of him sat a girl, a girl he recognized right off the bat. A girl he thought he could trust. With a smile, he started sprinting towards her.

"Natalie!"

* * *

Natalie Ellis (Female #6) was feeling ever so frustrated. She had only just settled into A4 after having been forced to move when her previous residence (A5) had become a danger zone. In addition, the pen she was issued with to write down danger zones and cross names off had already stopped working. Unbeknownst to her, it was the result of a handicap by the game makers to further scupper or improve certain students' chances. And bag #12, the one she had been given, was randomly chosen to contain a pen that had nearly run dry.

"Work, dang it!" Natalie cried out, then hurled the useless writing implement as far as she could. Even though she was sitting a good distance away from the cliff, the pen sailed effortlessly over the edge and disappeared out of sight. Moaning quietly in aggravation, Natalie put her hands up to her slightly sunburned forehead and massaged her temples with her thumbs. '_God, I've never felt this stressed before, what's happening to me?_'

"Natalie!"

Natalie gasped when she heard the male voice and instantly made a grab for the tranquilizer gun. She turned her head and saw someone approaching. He was caked virtually from head to toe in sprayed dried blood with some small trickles of brighter red coming from small cuts and scrapes. She instantly opened her mouth to scream at the grisly sight, pulled the gun from her bag and fired it at the intruder.

* * *

Zachary stopped running towards Natalie when he saw her pull the gun out, and before he could fathom what was going on, the gun had fired and something sharp struck him in the leg. It hurt at the initial impact, but the pain quickly went away. Looking down, he could see a tiny cannister with colorful feathers sticking out from the front of his thigh. '_A dart? That doesn't look good,_' he thought. The girl sitting in front of him suddenly gave a scream and covered her mouth, finally recognizing who she had shot.

"Zach! Oh my God!" she cried out, looking at the bloodied boy who was reaching down to pluck the dart out of his leg. "I-I didn't know it was you, I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, it's okay," Zach replied. He could kind of sympathize with her. If he had a mirror and looked into it with all the blood and gore coating his face, he probably wouldn't recognize himself either. Hell, he looked like he just butchered one of his classmates. "W-what did you shoot me with?" he asked.

"A tranquilizer dart," Natalie nervously replied.

"Oh," Zach merely replied, the dull ache in his arm seeming to be fading away as the sedative started to numb the pain. '_Guess it must be taking effect already, at least it wasn't poison darts she had, that's something to be happy about at least,_' he thought. He stumbled towards her some more, his walking becoming lopsided.

Natalie noticed how limp Zach's left arm was hanging as he approached her, whereas his right arm was swinging back and forth like normal. "What happened to your arm?" she asked.

"R-Rachel… she got me good with a metal bat," Zachary said, already starting to feel drowsy as the powerful chemicals circulated around in his bloodstream. He got next to Natalie and collapsed onto his knees, his body feeling a lot heavier. "I think… I'm certain she was the one who killed Mark."

"Rachel…?" Natalie repeated quietly, thinking back to the start when everyone was in the classroom. She remembered seeing Rachel get up to leave, the terrifying grin on her face and the demented laugh coming out her mouth. Clearly it wasn't a façade after all. "What on Earth happened to her? She was the last person I'd expect to take part in this."

"S-shame 'ere…" Zach groggily said, his speech slurring as the drowsiness got worse all the while. It was similar to the time he went to the dentist to have his wisdom teeth taken out, and the anesthetic put him to sleep before he could even count to ten. '_How long ago was I shot? Thirty seconds, or was it a minute?_' he thought, finding it difficult to remember as his mind clouded over. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, mere minutes, probably just mere seconds away from passing out completely. "Na'alie…?"

"Yes?" she asked.

"You… knock meee… ouuu'…" And with that, Zach's eyes closed and he fell into a deep drug-induced sleep, his body leaning against Natalie's. If it wasn't for the collar flashing its green light every second, and the steady rising and falling of his chest, Natalie would have thought he'd died there and then. As she gently moved Zachary into a comfortable lying position (and being careful not to disturb his broken arm in the process), she recalled the tranq gun's manual and how the target would be knocked out for around two hours. It would be quite some time until Zachary came to again, but after being all by herself for hours on end, she was willing to wait that long.

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**End of Hour 15**

**Hours Remaining: 57  
Students Eliminated in Hour 15: None  
Students Remaining: 36**

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_A/N: Wow, that took a lot longer than I was hoping for. I apologise for the delay on uploading, since I've been heavily preoccupied with chapter rewriting, work and the like._**  
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